


Dragon and Leviathan

by call_me_yin



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fire Emblem Fusion, Crest Experiments (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Don't Have to Know Fire Emblem, Gen, Insane Wilbur Soot, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Wilbur Soot, Tags May Change, Trans Male Character, Wilbur Soot is Not Okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_yin/pseuds/call_me_yin
Summary: The sound of shattering porcelain echoed throughout the tomb. Tommy abruptly lurched backwards, panting heavily, while the man in green rushed to cover his face with his hands. Silence settled over the group, broken only by laboured breathing, until finally, their attacker let his arms fall to his sides.Wilbur's blood ran cold as he recognised green eyes, freckles, an unmistakeable scar- it washim.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot, Eret & Floris | Fundy & Niki | Nihachu, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit, TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF) & Everyone, Wilbur Soot & Everyone
Comments: 20
Kudos: 132





	1. A Fated Encounter

The first day of the Great Tree Moon had always been a rude awakening for Wilbur. He was more than used to getting up at an ungodly hour of the morning just to scour the entire house for traps. It was practically built into his circadian rhythm at this point; even during years in which he forgot the upcoming date, his body would still jerk awake far too early. He supposed it was a survival mechanism, of sorts.

So, when he awoke on the first of the Great Tree Moon, 1180, and realised he no longer had to deprive himself of much-needed rest to avoid embarrassment, he was overjoyed. He celebrated by immediately rolling over and falling back to sleep.

He was at Garreg Mach now! The people here were all responsible and mature; they wouldn’t be bothered with something as ridiculous as Fools’ Day. Tommy, as overconfident as he acted, had always cared too much about what other people thought of him, and he hated nothing more than being called childish, so the odds of him attempting one of his typical dumb pranks were surely close to zero.

By time the sun rose and offered Wilbur a calmer, sweeter wake-up call, he’d already forgotten the date. The day itself was far more important - the first day of the school year. He figured it might be considered a little immature to be so excited over it, but it wasn’t as if he could help it. He’d been begging Phil to let him attend the Officers’ Academy for _years,_ and since Tubbo was old enough to enroll and Tommy’s birthday was rapidly approaching, their father had finally agreed. All three brothers were moved to the monastery, dragging a reluctant Techno along with them, and had been waiting for the past month for the new school year to begin. Even Tommy, despite not actually being old enough for another week yet, was being allowed to go to classes.

Wilbur had asked, once, why they had to go together or not at all, but Phil had only given vague answers, his gaze locked on the scar on his son’s throat.

The scar was mostly faded, Wilbur noted in the mirror. A thin line, running from one side of his larynx to the other, slightly slanted but perfectly straight. It was only really noticeable if you were looking for it, and the collar of his uniform practically covered it anyway, so he didn’t have to worry too much about anyone questioning it. Which was lucky, because... he wasn’t keen on recounting the story, to say the least.

He decided to take a little extra time getting ready, wanting to make a good first impression with his fellow students. He was inevitably going to stand out no matter what he did; he was concerningly tall and clearly one of the oldest here, with a house leader’s cloak and limited social skills. Since he was going to attract attention anyway, he may as well try to temper the unavoidable damage to his reputation.

His hair was refusing to cooperate, unfortunately, and after a while he simply gave up, brushing the most unruly strands back and just hiding them with his beanie. He did his best to make what was left sticking out look presentable, then set about fixing his cape. It was navy blue, his house’s colour, kept in place over one shoulder with an intricate golden pin on his chest.

A formal, official-looking man stared back at him in the mirror, and Wilbur couldn’t help beaming with pride. He actually looked like he was _supposed_ to be here! He was starting lessons, and he could get his first sword from the armoury once he found out where it was, and... It really felt like nothing could ruin this.

Then he stepped out of his room and was promptly _drenched_ in ice-cold water. A now-empty wooden pail bounced off his shoulder and rolled away down the hall while Wilbur stood there in shock.

“ _TOMMY!_ ”

Rapid footsteps echoed from the room neighbouring his own. The door opened a moment later and a blond head popped out, tired and dishevelled and alarmed.

“Will, what-”

Tommy didn’t even get a chance to finish his question, a second bucket falling from above and dowsing the poor teen. He let out a wordless scream and started spouting swears, shaking himself off and splattering droplets everywhere. Wilbur snorted with laughter, coughing as water filled his nose and earning a sharp glare from his brother.

“Oh, what the _fuck?_ ” Tommy whined, brushing aside some of the hair plastered to his face.

“You didn’t do this?” Wilbur asked, pulling off his beanie and cringing at the sodden material.

“Why the fuck would I prank _myself?!_ ”

Wilbur put his hands up in surrender, watching his distressed brother wring out his nightshirt with little sympathy. Tommy had made every Fools’ Day _hell_ up until now; this was merely karma. He unclasped the pin holding his cape in place, swinging the length of fabric off his shoulder and fruitlessly attempting to squeeze some of the water out. It didn’t take long to realise how pointless it was, and he soon relented.

“I thought none of the normal students were allowed up here,” Wilbur mused, crouching next to one of the fallen pails to pick it up.

“Who _cares,_ man?” Tommy groaned, kicking the other bucket with a huff. “Damn it, I was supposed to have a lie-in today. But _no,_ someone had to go and put fucking _ice water_ over my door!”

“Over every door,” Wilbur noted. The two rooms across the hallway from them also had buckets balancing precariously on the doorframes, quite frankly defying gravity in the process. Figuring his remaining brothers hadn’t done anything to warrant the abuse (neither had he...), he went to the door opposite his and reached up to take the container down.

Tommy, still muttering curses, made his way to Tubbo’s door. He was about to grab the pail and get it down, when the door handle suddenly began to turn.

“Wait, Toby, _no!_ ” Tommy panicked and quickly slammed the door shut as soon as he saw that it was opening. He succeeded in keeping Tubbo in the room, but he also managed to disrupt the delicate balance of the bucket, and ended up getting a second free shower.

Wilbur burst out laughing when Tommy _shrieked,_ punting the bucket down the hallway and swearing at the top of his lungs. Tubbo’s door slowly creaked open again, and the brunet poked his head out, eyes wide. It must’ve been quite the scene, to be fair. Wilbur, looking like a drowned rat and doubled over with laughter, while a similarly drenched Tommy screamed angrily at a bucket.

“What..?” Tubbo trailed off, seemingly unsure as to what to even ask.

He wouldn’t get the chance to think of a question, either, as they were interrupted by a distinct barking laugh from behind them. The far end of the hallway was a dead end, with a large window looking out into the courtyard, and sat on the sill was a boy in the Officers’ Academy uniform, one hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to stifle his giggling.

All three brothers stared at him, Wilbur’s own laughter dying out as he registered the situation. No one was supposed to be up here. He took a step forward, ready to call the student out and defend his kin if need be, but Tommy beat him to it.

“ _Oi,_ you!” the blond stormed over to the stranger, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Did you do this?!”

“Hey, relax,” the student chuckled, pushing Tommy’s hand away. “It’s Fools’ Day!”

Wilbur chose to interrupt before Tommy started ranting, hurrying over to put a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Regular students aren’t allowed up here. How did you even get in?”

“Regular students?” the stranger repeated, squinting at Wilbur as if he’d suddenly grown a second head. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Answer the question,” Wilbur’s voice darkened, and he felt Tommy tense beside him.

The student began to look nervous, glancing to the side with a worried grin. “I, uh- I just came through the door. It wasn’t locked or anything, so I figured I was allowed in here.”

Wilbur frowned, looking back at the staircase at the other end of the hall. He _always_ locked the door when he returned from the monastery; Phil had drilled it into his head so thoroughly that he’d often follow the routine in his _dreams._ He turned his gaze to Tommy, and his brother immediately jumped away from him.

“Don’t even think about it!” the teen scowled, crossing his arms with a huff. “I wasn’t the last one back last night!”

“Then who was?”

“That... might be me,” Tubbo offered meekly. He’d come up behind his brothers while the two of them were distracted, and now stood looking rather guilty.

Wilbur let out a sigh, about to scold him, but was once again cut off by Tommy’s impatience.

“ _Seriously,_ Tubbo?! We’ve been here for a _month,_ how the fuck did you forget?!”

“Well, you’re always the last one back, so I assumed you were still outside!” Tubbo shouted back.

The student in the window glanced between the three brothers, then slowly slid himself down off the sill. “I think I’m just gonna go-”

Tommy whirled on him. “Oh no you don’t- I’m not done with _you,_ dickhead!”

“Look, you guys clearly have some stuff to talk through, and I don’t wanna intrude on that, and my friends are probably wondering where I am right now-”

“We don’t have anything to talk through!” Tommy declared. “You are _not_ getting away that easily, Mr... fuck, what’s your name?”

“Uh... Skeppy?” He looked as if he wasn’t sure whether to be amused or terrified, at this point.

“Right, you. Fuck you!”

“What the hell is going on out here?”

The deep, tired voice silenced them instantly, all four turning to see Techno stood in the hallway just outside his room. He looked remarkably official, dressed in uniform with his hair neatly tied back, but he was no less intimidating than usual.

“ _Blade,_ hi!” Tommy laughed nervously. “We, uh- see, Skeppy here decided to ruin my morning-”

“Ignore him,” Wilbur interjected, gently pushing the teen aside. Tommy squawked indignantly and shoved back, though it didn’t do much to the significantly taller brother. “Apparently, this student still celebrates Fools’ Day.”

Skeppy shrunk in on himself as Techno’s gaze shifted to him, dark eyes narrowing suspiciously as he observed the student. Eventually, he simply sighed and turned his attention back to his brothers.

“How did he even get in here?”

“Tubbo forgot to lock the door,” Tommy answered with a scowl.

“Sorry!”

Techno pinched at the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and pursing his lips and generally appearing _very_ fed up with everything going on. It was hard to blame him.

“Okay, what was your name? Skeppy? Just- just get out, okay?”

Skeppy didn’t need to be asked twice, taking off the second Techno stopped talking. He cautiously stepped around the taller student, then disappeared down the stairs. The sound of a door slamming echoed up a few seconds later.

“Wilbur, dry yourself off,” Techno continued, looking at each of his brothers in turn. “Tommy, go get dressed. Tubbo, come with me. Class starts in _half an hour,_ people. You guys are the ones who wanted to go to school, not me, so come on.”

Tommy tried to protest, but a pair of glares from his older brothers quickly shut him up. He let out a huff and headed back to his room, muttering complaints the whole way. Tubbo mumbled another apology, then hurried towards the stairs; Techno gave Wilbur a nod before following.

Wilbur went to his quarters, locking the door behind him and drawing the curtains. He stripped off a layer of sodden clothes, then snapped his fingers and summoned a small flame to his side. Everything was dry after roughly ten minutes, so he made himself presentable again and tried to reassure himself that things could still work out okay. His hair, at least, was behaving a lot more now. Maybe it was a sign of things looking up, after that awful start to the day. With a quiet sigh, he snuffed out the magical flame, and left his room.

He had maybe quarter of an hour before lessons started, which was good because he’d need that extra time to actually find the room. Techno had spent the first week of their time here memorising the layout of the entire academy and monastery, and though Tommy had given it a valiant effort, in the end only the elder brother managed to map everything out. Wilbur had _no_ idea where anything was.

One of the knights on duty was kind enough to give directions when asked, but it still took way too long to find the room. Especially considering how obvious it was once he did notice it. There were only two rooms facing the courtyard, and the doors were all wide open. Techno was literally _standing in the doorway._

Maybe Wilbur just needed glasses.

“Two minutes to spare,” Techno noted when Wilbur approached, earning a nervous chuckle in response.

“At least I wasn’t late.”

Techno merely shrugged and led his brother inside. The classroom had a high, arching roof and tall windows, shining ample natural light onto symmetrical rows of dark wooden tables. Eight or so students were strewn around the room, sitting on benches or desks or just standing and waiting. Everyone was talking, all bright eyes and wide smiles, and Wilbur couldn’t help feeling a little overwhelmed. He was used to his father and his brothers, and that was _it._ Techno seemed to be taking it even worse; he was still outwardly calm, but Wilbur knew him well enough to recognise the tension in his shoulders and the worried crease in his brow.

Tommy and Tubbo, on the other hand, appeared to be taking to the new environment like a fish to water. Tubbo was perched on one of the tables, Tommy sat on the bench by his feet, and they were conversing easily with two boys who looked around their own age. One of them must’ve said _something_ funny, because Tommy suddenly started howling with laughter, the distinctive sound sending Tubbo into his own fit of giggles. They settled down a minute later; Tommy exhaled loudly and wiped at his eyes, then perked up when he finally noticed his brothers watching.

“Wilbur, you made it!” he called out, gesturing for the man in question to come closer. His whole little group immediately turned to look; Tubbo smiled and waved, while the other two just watched curiously.

Wilbur glanced briefly at Techno, who simply nodded, then took a deep breath and walked over. _Good first impression, good first impression..._

“Okay, Will, this is Jack and Purpled,” Tommy explained quickly, pointing to each boy in turn. “Guys, this is the one I was telling you about.” He cleared his throat and, in an exaggerated accent, continued, “Wilbur Soot, house leader of the Blue Salmon!”

Tubbo spoke in a similar mocking tone. “Our brave commander! Our worthy ruler!”

Purpled snickered and put a hand over his mouth, and Wilbur felt a need to intervene. “Okay, you two, that-”

“The man who will surely guide us to victory!” Tommy paused, his face serious, only to break out into a shit-eating grin just a moment later. “ _And..._ our dumb big brother.”

Jack started clapping, eliciting a chuckle from Tubbo. Wilbur fiddled with his brooch, a self-conscious heat rising in his cheeks. _Good first impression..._

“Wait, _that’s_ the house leader?”

Looking up, Wilbur saw one of the other students leaning over a desk to squint at him. A girl with sheep ears tried to pull him back, sighing, “Quackity, _please,_ ” but he ignored her.

Quackity, as he was apparently called, straightened up after a few seconds, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes. “I saw you in the monastery with Philza the other day,” he announced, watching Wilbur expectantly. “What’s that about? The knights don’t just _let people_ talk to Philza, y’know.”

Wilbur didn’t know, actually. He knew Phil was somewhat important in the church, obviously, but he hadn’t realised there were any sort of restrictions around interacting with him. It seemed a little excessive, to be honest.

“I wasn’t aware.” He kept his voice level, speaking calmly to the agitated student. “If you don’t mind me asking, why aren’t people allowed to talk to him?”

“Are you serious?” Quackity was incredulous, and even his peers were starting to look confused. “You’re apparently important enough to have a casual conversation with Philza, but you don’t even know why _he’s_ important?”

“No..?”

“You- the man has the Crest of Macuil!” Quackity exclaimed, and Wilbur’s blood ran cold. He glanced back at his brothers, who all appeared similarly alarmed. They _had_ known that, of course they had, but none of them had ever thought it was that noteworthy. Was that why Phil had told them to keep quiet about their own Crests? Wilbur remembered thinking it was an odd request, but their father was adamant about it. No telling people about their Crests, and no telling people they were related to him.

“I... see,” Wilbur said, pausing to choose his next words carefully. “My brothers and I, we’re not... we’re not from around here.” It was a bit of an exaggeration, but with how secluded their lives had been it may as well have been true. “I didn’t realise Crests were such a big deal.”

Quackity visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping as he let out a sigh. “They’re not, really,” he admitted, sitting back down in his seat. “It’s just Philza’s Crest in particular. People thought all the Saints’ Crests died out centuries ago, so he’s pretty special.”

Wilbur frowned, letting his gaze fall as he tried to process what had just been said. The Saints’ Crests died out? _Centuries_ ago? That couldn’t be right- no, he _knew_ it wasn’t right! He subconsciously clasped the back of his neck, where his Crest hid beneath his collar. What did all that mean for him? Phil was apparently considered untouchable by the students here, just because of his Crest, so would the same be true for Wilbur and his brothers if people found out about _their_ Crests?

“What’s he talking about?” Tubbo whispered behind him, leaning towards Tommy, who simply shrugged and muttered, “No clue.”

Why would Phil tell them to hide their Crests if they were so important? Did he not want people knowing that the other Saints’ Crests were still around? Why not? People treated Phil well, so he couldn’t be worried about his sons getting abuse for it, surely. Was there something about their Crests that they just didn’t _know?_ What was-

The train of thought was abruptly derailed when somebody bumped into Wilbur from behind. He quickly turned and looked down to find a student standing there, clutching a stack of books to their chest and looking rather surprised.

“Ah, sorry. Wasn’t looking,” they mumbled, a pair of fox ears pressing back against their head. A matching tail twitched nervously behind them, and Wilbur had to stop for a moment just to comprehend what he was seeing. A _kitsune?_ They weren’t endangered or anything, but everything he’d read said that they tended to stay on other continents. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see one _here._

The kitsune nudged up their hat and started fiddling with a white streak in their fringe, at which point Wilbur realised he was still staring.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. No harm done,” he assured, stepping aside to let the student pass. They nodded and made a beeline for one of the front desks, sitting down and promptly slumping in the seat. A dark-haired girl made her way over, a few white strands falling to frame her face as she leant down to speak quietly with them. The kitsune’s ear twitched in acknowledgement, though if they responded, Wilbur couldn’t hear it.

There was something slightly unnerving about that. He’d spent so much time with his brothers that he could easily read their expressions and body language, and tell what they were thinking and how they felt. Now he was surrounded by people that he didn’t know at all, and he could only recognise the most obvious of emotions. It was... unsettling, to say the least.

The professor arrived just a minute later. Wilbur idled for a moment, watching his peers settle down on benches as if they magically knew where to sit, and eventually hurried back to Techno. His brother had taken a seat in the very back row, and he shuffled aside a little to let Wilbur sit next to him. Tommy and Tubbo already had their own row on the other side of the aisle, still chattering away to Jack and Purpled, who took up the table behind them. In front of the two brothers sat a still-agitated Quackity and the girl with sheep ears, who looked dangerously close to strangling her deskmate. Opposite them was the kitsune, head still down on the desk, and the girl comforting them, rubbing small circles into their back.

The final desk, behind the kitsune and just in front of Wilbur, only had one student. A boy with sunglasses and a gaudy crown-shaped hair clip, head propped up with one hand while the other held open a textbook. He was intently focused on reading; Wilbur didn’t even remember seeing him look up when Quackity was shouting.

The class had a decent age range, with students from a whole host of different stages of education, so the professor told them the first week or so of lessons would just be establishing a baseline. Once everyone was on equal ground, they could move on to more specialised classes.

“I’ll take attendance and you can all say something about yourselves,” the professor decided, noting something down and looking up expectantly. “Alastair?”

The boy with the hair clip finally lifted his head, appearing startled for a moment until he clocked what was happening. He quickly closed his book and waved in the general direction of the front of the room. “Ah, hi. I usually go by Eret, actually,” he clarified, tapping out a nervous rhythm on his desk. “Let’s see... I was born in L’Manberg, but I’ve been studying in the SMP for the past couple years, and... oh! I’m a _huge_ Crest nerd.”

Sure enough, the book he’d been so engrossed in a minute earlier had a giant Crest of Seiros stamped on the front.

“Okay. Eret, I’ll remember that. Alexis?”

Quackity rolled his eyes and stood up, looking back over his shoulder at the rest of the class. “Okay, well, _I_ was born in the SMP, then moved to L’Manberg a few years ago.” He paused, humming thoughtfully, then added, “Fun fact, I guess - my ancestors were laguz.” Then he nodded, apparently satisfied, and sat back down again.

“Caroline?”

The girl next to Quackity straightened up, offering a bright smile. “That’s me. I prefer Cara, though, and my friends call me Puffy. I suppose my fun fact would be that I _am_ a laguz.”

“Wait, are we all gonna have nicknames?” Her deskmate interrupted, looking confused. “Call me Quackity, then!”

“I’ll... keep that in mind.” The lesson hadn’t even begun yet and Wilbur was already starting to feel bad for the professor. “Okay, Dave?”

Tommy snickered across the way as Techno groaned and slid down in his seat. “Techno, _please._ And I don’t have a fun fact.”

“That’s fine,” the professor dismissed. “Grayson?”

Purpled waved, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Uh, Purpled, if you don’t mind. I guess I know attrition warfare tactics better than most people?”

“Could be useful! Jack?”

“I’m actually okay with my name,” Jack chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Fun fact, I can sing. Kind of.”

“Nikita?”

The girl beside the kitsune stood up, tucking the few strands of white hair behind her ears. “Most people call me Niki. I’ve also heard Nihachu before.” She hesitated, then, glancing from the kitsune to Eret and back again. “My fun fact is that I, um... I have two Crests.”

That got quite a few people’s attention, quiet murmurs flying around the classroom. The kitsune was looking up at her in alarm, ears pressed flat against their head, and Eret appeared... concerned, maybe? It was hard to tell; Wilbur didn’t know these people, and Eret hiding his eyes wasn’t helping.

He’d never heard of anyone having two Crests before, either. Books he’d read stated that even just one was a massive strain on people’s bodies, so what could two do to someone? It was hard to imagine, and he was honestly unsure if he even wanted to.

“That’s quite rare, Niki,” the professor said earnestly. Niki simply nodded and settled down again, rubbing at the back of her neck. “Okay, next, Sa- ah, wait...” There was a moment of awkward silence, then, “Floris?”

The kitsune sighed and tugged their hat down over their eyes. When they spoke, their voice was much clearer and noticeably deeper than it had been earlier. “It’s Fundy, please. Fun fact, I know dark magic.”

Techno perked up suddenly, leaning in towards Wilbur and urgently whispering, “That’s allowed here?!”

“Apparently.”

Wilbur couldn’t remember the last time he saw his brother so excited.

“Thomas?”

Tommy jumped up, smiling widely, which was never a good sign. “It’s _Tommy,_ innit?” he cackled. “Fun fact, let’s see- uh, I have ESCP!”

Extrasensory Crest Perception. The ability to simply _know_ whether someone had a Crest. It was incredibly rare, and even rarer was being able to sense the specific Crest. Tommy had never taken any kind of test or anything, but it wasn’t something that particularly _needed_ to be tested. It was pretty easy to tell if you had it or not.

“That’s... actually really interesting,” the professor admitted, sounding mildly surprised. A few students nodded in agreement, the rest still murmuring to themselves about something or other. Fundy and Niki, in particular, seemed engrossed in some quiet conversation. “Okay, Toby?”

“I’d prefer Tubbo, thank you,” the teen replied with a small wave. “And... I like bees, I guess?”

“You’re _obsessed_ with bees,” Tommy argued, sitting back down with a huff.

“I am _not._ ” Tubbo sounded somewhere between annoyed and offended, as if he wasn’t sure quite _how_ upset to be. “I just think they’re neat.”

Tommy looked unconvinced, but didn’t push the point further, thank the Goddess.

“William?”

Wilbur froze for a second, unaccustomed to hearing his full name. He hardly even remembered the last time anyone had actually used it, let alone who it’d been. Clearing his throat, he slowly rose to his feet, glancing around at his classmates. Whatever they’d been focusing on before had apparently been deemed unimportant, as everyone was now watching him _quite_ attentively. Curious about their house leader, he guessed.

“I go by Wilbur, most of the time,” he began, choosing to fix his gaze on the chalkboard beside the professor’s head instead of meeting anyone’s eyes. “My fun fact, I-” _Nothing about your Crest, nothing about your family._ “I... I’m a writer. Mostly songs, some short stories.”

A handful of his peers looked intrigued, though the majority lost interest pretty quickly. Quackity, oddly enough, was one of the few who remained fascinated.

“Do you just write the songs, or can you sing?” he asked.

Wilbur paused, finally convincing himself to tear his eyes away from the chalkboard. “I can sing, yeah. I usually just play, though.”

“Play?”

“Guitar.”

Quackity nodded approvingly, smiling as he turned away, and Wilbur couldn’t help feeling as if he’d won something. No idea what.

Wilbur was the last on the register, so once he sat down the lesson officially began. It was an _interesting_ process, for sure. It took them ten minutes just to establish where everyone was in terms of knowledge. Turned out almost half the class had moved country at one point or another, so their school history was chequered, at best. Wilbur and his brothers, meanwhile, had never had any formal education at all, and the professor’s growing distress couldn’t have been much more obvious. Catching everyone up to the same level was going to take more than a week, for sure.

Eventually, it was decided that the first two weeks would be spent bringing them all up to speed. During that time, they’d be allowed to look into curriculum plans, and at the end of the second week they would decide what subjects they wanted to study. Everyone at the academy was given basic self-defence lessons and taught how to hold a variety of weapons, but it was up to the students to choose what they wanted to specialise in. Wilbur had been thinking about his options ever since he got to the monastery, though he was yet to come to any kind of decision. He’d never seriously fought before, so he didn’t even know what he’d be good at... That was the point of trying new things, he supposed.

By time the session finally drew to a close, Wilbur wanted nothing more than to go back to his room and sleep the rest of the day away. Phil had warned him that school wasn’t always fun, but this was ridiculous. They hadn’t even done anything, really. He’d just sat there for hours and nodded whenever people asked him things, and yet he was more exhausted than he ever remembered being. How was that even fair?

“Why did I let you morons drag me into this?” Techno groaned, leaning against the door while the rest of the class hurried out into the courtyard. Somehow, they all still had plenty of energy - a few of them actually seemed _more_ awake now than at the beginning of the day.

“I don’t know,” Wilbur sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m starting to understand why you hate social situations so much, honestly.”

“Only took you two decades,” Techno muttered, and Wilbur felt a pang of guilt. He’d always tried to be supportive, of course, but he had to admit he’d never really attempted to empathise with his brother before. He could already tell school was going to be quite the reality check in that regard.

The doors of the next classroom suddenly swung open, and the inhabitants poured out, impossibly managing to be _louder_ than the group already outside. Techno visibly shrank away, while Wilbur had to fight the urge to cover his ears. He hadn’t thought anyone could be louder than Tommy, but whoever in that crowd was screaming was definitely giving it their best shot.

“I’m telling you, I did it right just yesterday!” a boy with a bandana complained, clinging to the arm of another student.

“I know, Sapnap, we all believed you,” the sufferer chuckled. He wore a _noticeably_ singed purple hoodie under his uniform. “You didn’t have to set off a fireball in the middle of the classroom.”

“It wasn’t just a _fireball,_ it was Bolganone!” Sapnap insisted.

A third student interjected, and their voice was regrettably familiar.

“What’s the difference?” Skeppy asked, looking between the two classmates.

Sapnap gasped, visibly offended, while the boy in the hoodie just sighed. “There’s a big differen-”

“ _YOU!_ ”

Wilbur _did_ cover his ears that time, wincing at the volume of the shriek. Tommy intended to defend his ‘Loudest Child’ title, apparently.

Skeppy went pale, his head turning so fast it was wonder he didn’t snap his own neck. He offered a shaky grin when he saw the angry teen glaring at him, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “Oh, _hey-_ ”

“Don’t _‘hey’_ me, dickhead!” Tommy shouted, marching over to the other class, much to the confusion of both groups. “We never finished talking earlier, and I still got a _lot_ to say to you.”

“Well, I, uh- I’d _love_ to.” Skeppy was slowly backing away now, glancing around rapidly for an escape route. “ _But,_ I have a lot of work to do, and-”

“You are _not_ running away again!”

Wilbur abruptly realised that he could taste ozone, and knew he had to step in before things escalated. He hurried over and put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, a small jolt of static making his fingers go numb. Okay, his brother was definitely more worked up over this than he’d first thought.

“Tommy, you need to-”

“What’s going on?”

Wilbur looked up, and faltered when he saw the student that’d stepped in front of Skeppy. He had a green house leader’s cape over one shoulder, a sword at his hip and dark iron bracers, but the most notable thing was the mask. A perfect circle of porcelain, a simple smiley face drawn on the front, making it impossible to see his features or expression.

Any words Wilbur wished to say promptly died in his throat.

“This asshole put buckets of _ice water_ over our doors this morning,” Tommy seethed, jabbing a finger in Skeppy’s direction.

The masked man tensed, then slowly turned to his classmate, who was practically trembling at this point. “Skeppy, you told me you only pranked _our_ house.”

“I-in my defense, I didn’t know they were students.”

“That’s _worse!_ ”

“I’m _sorry,_ okay?” Skeppy pleaded, still steadily moving backwards. He actually might’ve been able to make a break for it if another one of his classmates hadn’t stepped in his path. This man was much taller than Skeppy, with gold spaulders and a crown-shaped brooch pinned to his sword belt. Skeppy bumped into him and was understandably petrified. “Oh, no, c’mon, Sam, please-”

“We told you _weeks_ ago to leave the other house out of your pranks,” Sam sighed, sounding uncannily like a disappointed parent. “I mean, who were you expecting, really? Knights? Monks?”

“I don’t _know!_ ”

“Wait, are you guys seriously more upset with him for screwing with them than with us?” Sapnap interrupted, incredulous. “It took me and Ant ages to dry everyone off!”

“We’re used to Skeppy,” Sam pointed out. “These people are innocent.”

“ _We’re_ innocent!”

Their house leader put a hand to his mask, presumably intending to facepalm, and shifted his attention back to Wilbur and Tommy. “I’m sorry about them. The Green Dragons are just a bunch of children, apparently.”

Wilbur finally managed to collect himself, straightening up and praying his staring hadn’t been too obvious. “Um, yes, well- our house isn’t much better, from what I know.”

“Oi!”

Years of practice made it easy to tune out Tommy’s ranting and continue as if nothing was wrong. “I’m Wilbur, by the way.”

The masked man hesitated for a few seconds, then took Wilbur’s outstretched hand. “Dream.”

“Don’t ignore me!” Tommy protested, elbowing his brother in the side with much more force than necessary.

“Tommy, it was just a Fools’ Day prank.” Wilbur spoke firmly, already starting to grow tired of the teen’s outbursts. Goddess, it was only their first day; he could only hope Tommy calmed down a little as time went on. “You’ve been pulling them for years, you can’t get upset because you had _one_ pulled on you.”

The younger brother pouted, and there was a quiet chuckle from behind Dream’s mask. Tommy looked directly at the house leader for the first time, a scowl on his face, then froze. He tensed up in a heartbeat, his brow furrowing and his pupils dilating, almost imperceptibly.

“Tommy?” As irritated as he was, Wilbur never could prevent the concern he felt whenever any member of his family seemed distressed. Big brother instincts, or something like that.

“You...” Tommy trailed off, glancing back over his shoulder at his class. Wilbur followed his gaze, and soon realised his brother was staring at Niki. She’d moved to one of the benches at the edge of the courtyard, sat next to a silent Fundy while she chatted to Puffy and Eret.

Without another word, Tommy turned away and walked over to her.

“What’s his deal?” Dream questioned, tone halfway between joking and worried.

“He’s a teenager,” Wilbur excused. Not a legitimate explanation by any means, but he had no clue what the real reason might be. He’d have to ask Tommy about it later, after he confronted Phil.

“So are half the students here,” Dream huffed. He toyed with the edge of one of his bracers for a moment, then shrugged. “Just make sure he’s okay by the mock battle. Won’t be any fun taking you guys down if you’re not fighting at your best.”

Wilbur could only stare blankly. He understood all those words separately, but that particular configuration wasn’t quite making sense right now. “Mock battle..?”

“Mock battle!” Dream confirmed, nodding enthusiastically. “Y’know, on the 30th?”

“Uh...”

It was impossible to see Dream’s face, but the exasperation was still palpable. “The mock battle between our houses? They do it at the end of the first month of each school year, to kinda... see if we’re actually starting to improve, or... something. Figured you’d know about it. I mean- you’re a house leader.”

“I’ve had a... sheltered life,” Wilbur explained awkwardly. He wasn’t dumb, he knew there was going to be things he didn’t know about - that was just what happened when you lived alone in the middle of nowhere for 23 years. It was honestly starting to feel like he didn’t know _anything,_ though. People, Crests, fighting styles, upcoming events... He really needed to just sit down and think through everything when he got the chance. Maybe he should start keeping a journal again; he’d gotten one back when Phil first let him go into town alone, but after a few months he’d simply stopped feeling motivated to write. Being constantly confused about everything could be just the push he needed to get back into it.

“I see.”

Oh, right, he was in the middle of a conversation.

“Well, I’ll just say the same about you, then. You better be giving it your all on the 30th.” Dream put one hand on his hip, a smirk audible in his voice. “I’m excited to see why you were made house leader.”

“I look forward to seeing what’s so special about _you,_ ” Wilbur retorted, unable to keep a small smile off his face.

“I promise not to disappoint.”

“May the best house win.”

Wilbur stuck his hand out again, and Dream didn’t hesitate to take it this time.

Maybe things really _were_ starting to look up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not respond, but I do read and appreciate every comment.
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me @call-me-yin on Tumblr!


	2. Questions and Promises

Wilbur spent an hour, maybe, searching the monastery for Phil without much luck. None of the knights or monks he ran into knew where his father was, either, despite their eagerness to help. Well, most of them were eager, anyway. One of the squires, a blond with a showy necklace and a sword at his hip, just gave him an odd look and asked why he was looking for Phil.

His father had never explained _exactly_ what he’d told people at the monastery about Wilbur and his brothers, but he had a vague idea, at least. They didn’t know that they were related to Phil, seemingly believing that the four of them were simply friends or acquaintances he was looking out for. Wilbur had thought it odd at first, but just chalked it up to Phil not wanting them to get special treatment - admittedly, just being allowed to attend the academy was already incredibly nepotistic.

Back to the topic at hand, though; apparently this squire had been left out of the loop. Or maybe he was new? Wilbur didn’t recognise him.

“I just need to talk to Phil,” he tried to explain.

“Yeah, no, I got that part,” the squire huffed, rolling his eyes. “I want to know _why._ We can’t just let random students near him, even if you are a house leader.”

Wilbur sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “Look, just- do you know where he is or not?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Thank you for your time.” Wilbur nodded curtly, then turned and walked away. It was just too frustrating at this point. He could always talk to Phil tomorrow, or whenever he decided to show up; they lived in the same place now, so his father couldn’t avoid him forever.

He could still feel the squire’s gaze on him, blue eyes burning holes in his back, as he passed through the main gate of the monastery and started back across the bridge to the academy. Trying to ignore it, Wilbur made his way into the reception hall, feeling a near-tangible relief once the blond’s view was blocked by brick walls.

The hall was mostly empty aside from a few groups of students. Notably, he could see Sam at one of the tables, Skeppy sat opposite him and a brunet with glasses by his side. Wilbur briefly considered stopping to say hi, but the brunet seemed rather annoyed and Skeppy was clearly worked up about something. He felt sorry for Sam, who just looked tired, but not _that_ sorry.

It was starting to get late, so he figured it was probably a good idea to return to his brothers. Their residence was a small building attached to one end of the dorms, overlooking the courtyard. They had a lounge, and a bedroom each upstairs. The past week had been weird, with the four of them having to learn to adjust to the environment - none of them were used to staying anywhere besides their own house, let alone anywhere near strangers. Tommy seemed to be taking it the worst, oddly enough; his stubbornness apparently also lended to a general dislike of change.

When he got to their home, he found that his brothers had already beaten him there. Techno was sat in an armchair with a book, frowning as he read through the pages, while Tommy and Tubbo were toying with matching bundles of papers on the couch. Assuming none of them were going to want to head out again in the meagre hour of sunlight they had left, Wilbur locked the door behind him, placing his key on a small shelf by the entrance as he passed.

“I mean, I don’t even know what a Wo Dao _is,_ ” Tubbo hummed, pointing to something on the page Tommy was reading.

The blond nodded, shifting the sheet of paper to look at the one beneath. “Yeah, no, I’ve literally never heard that before. And what’s... ‘Physic?’”

Tubbo looked confused, squinting at the word. “Wait, isn’t that the spell I’ve been trying to learn? I thought it was Psychic.”

“Well, this says Physic, so either it’s a typo or you’ve been reading it wrong.” Tommy paused, glancing at his brother, then added, “You probably read it wrong.”

Tubbo just sighed and nodded.

“What are you two looking at?” Wilbur asked, making his way over and taking a seat next to his youngest brother.

Tommy handed his papers over in response, scowling, “It’s a bunch of stuff about all the courses here, but I don’t even understand half of what they’re saying.”

Wilbur couldn’t keep a small frown off his face as he skimmed through a couple of the pages; _he_ didn’t understand half the terminology, either. “Well... none of us have really done any training before, so it makes sense that you wouldn’t get it.”

Phil had taught them all how to protect themselves, and had taught Techno and Tommy how to hold a sword after they practically begged him, but that was about it. Magic, being something that was often self-taught even within the education system, was the only thing the four of them were actually _good_ at. Wilbur and Tubbo knew basic fire spells, while Tommy could summon sparks at his fingertips. Techno knew how to create shards of ice from nothing, but he’d always been more interested in dark magic, which they had access to very little information on - mostly just passing mentions in black magic books, warning against its usage (not that it ever dissuaded Techno from looking).

Wilbur paused at the second page in the pile, his eye catching on the word Physic. He glanced up at the course name, then looked over at Tubbo. “Hold on, you’ve been learning white magic?”

Tubbo nodded, still fidgeting with his own papers. “Figured it might be useful, considering none of you are interested in being healers.”

“Yeah, ’cause that’s _boring,_ ” Tommy scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. “Black magic is just cooler. You can hurt people with it!”

“Funny you should say that, because I just figured out Nosferatu yesterday.” Tubbo put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, and a faint light began to shine through his fingers.

Tommy screamed and leapt off the couch, bolting to the other side of the room before turning around to stare in shock at Tubbo. “What the _hell?!_ Don’t use it on _me,_ you dick!”

“Well, you said you couldn’t hurt people with white magic,” Tubbo said with a shrug.

“I _literally_ didn’t!” Tommy rebutted, voice cracking.

“If you’re gonna fight, take it outside,” Techno suddenly spoke up, lifting his head from his book to fix his brothers with a glare.

Tommy and Tubbo exchanged a look, and a moment later the former sighed, his shoulders slumping. The blond reluctantly walked back over and dropped into the spot between Wilbur and Tubbo, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

Wilbur just rolled his eyes, all too used to this kind of behaviour, and turned his attention to Techno. “What are you reading?”

“I borrowed that book Eret was reading in class,” he explained, holding up the book to show the Crest of Seiros stamped on the front. “That stuff Quackity said just didn’t sit right with me.”

“You mean... the stuff about our Crests?” Tubbo asked, sounding nervous.

Tommy immediately shrunk in on himself, and Wilbur found himself covering up that spot at the back of his neck once again, while Techno merely nodded.

“He wasn’t lying, y’know. According to this book, Indech and Macuil both died without ever having children. Cichol died in battle centuries later, and his only daughter, Cethleann, went missing soon after. No one was ever documented to have her Crest, so it’s assumed she either died or is living somewhere in complete isolation.” Techno hesitated, closing the book and tapping the spine a few times. “So... Phil having Macuil’s Crest shouldn’t be possible.”

“ _All_ of your Crests shouldn’t be possible!” Tommy seemed uncharacteristically anxious, his voice high-pitched and uneven.

“Why wouldn’t Phil tell us about this?” Wilbur wondered, leaning back in his seat. “And why did he tell us to keep our Crests secret?”

“Maybe people knowing would put us in danger,” Tubbo suggested. “I mean, if it’s really that rare.”

“Don’t the people here, like... _worship_ Phil, though?” Tommy pointed out.

Tubbo nodded, picking at the corner of his stack of papers. “Yeah, but think about it. When something’s rare, that makes it more valuable, right? And people _want_ valuable things.”

Tommy paled at the implications, while Wilbur subconsciously lifted a hand to his throat, running a finger over the scar there.

“I think we should just... trust Phil, for now.” Techno sounded uncertain, but his expression gave nothing away. “He must have his reasons, and we can ask him about them later. I’ll keep reading in the meantime; see what I can find out.”

Tubbo hummed affirmation, though Tommy still appeared rather stressed. The blond rubbed at his arm, then abruptly stood up, announcing, “I think I’m gonna go to bed.”

He hurried away, disappearing upstairs before any of them had a chance to question him.

“I, uh- I should probably go too,” Tubbo excused awkwardly, putting his papers down on the coffee table and following after his brother.

Wilbur looked down at the course guide Tommy had handed him, glancing over the list once more. It was going to be tough picking what classes to take, especially considering he’d never tried any of them before, so it was a good thing he had a couple weeks to decide. It would give him enough time to experiment a little in the training arena, at least...

Anyway.

He waited until he heard a door slam upstairs, then placed the papers on the table, crossing his arms as he looked up at Techno.

“I can’t help but notice you left one Crest out, just then.” Wilbur made sure to keep his tone level, not wanting to sound like he was accusing his brother.

Techno grimaced, tightening his grip on the book. “That’s because there’s no information on it. The Crest of Flames has never been documented. _Ever._ ”

“So... what? The Goddess had it, and just never passed it on to anyone?”

“Seems like it,” Techno sighed.

Wilbur put a hand to his head, tugging nervously at his hair. “We _know_ that can’t be true, though.”

Techno nodded, and a tense silence fell over the room.

It shouldn’t be possible. Wilbur and his brothers, their father - _they_ shouldn’t be possible! And yet here they were anyway, existing despite all recorded history apparently stating that they couldn’t.

Macuil and Indech, two brothers with useful Crests, both dying before they had the chance to pass them on. Cichol, a third brother, who had a daughter with a unique Crest of her own. The father was killed, and his only family disappeared, with her bloodline never reemerging.

The Four Saints had no legacy, so how- _how-_

And the Crest of Flames! The Goddess’ own Crest, the most powerful by default, which she’d apparently never gifted to _anyone._ But if that was true, then how could it have ended up _here?_

Wilbur let out a groan, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands. “I’m too tired to _think,_ ” he whined, earning a low chuckle from his brother.

“Then go sleep, nerd,” Techno advised. “We need to talk to Phil, but as I said, we can do it later. One day isn’t going to make a difference.”

Wilbur was reluctant, but he knew Techno was right. With a mumbled, “Goodnight,” he returned to his room, though it took him far too long to actually settle down and fall asleep. His brain just wouldn’t shut up, no matter how much he tried to force it to.

He had two weeks to figure out what fighting style he wanted to specialise in, despite never fighting before and having no idea how the different methods even _worked._ Then there was everything going on with his Crest, and his family’s Crests. Wilbur had spent two decades thinking they weren’t a big deal at all, and now he was suddenly being told that their very existence was impossible. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask Tommy about his reaction to Dream, either. And speaking of Dream- what the hell? Seriously, _what_ was with the mask? Why did he make Wilbur so uneasy? Why- why was his voice so familiar?

Wilbur had to fight the urge to scream into his pillow, gritting his teeth and hiding his face in the crook of his arm.

There was his house, too. He had to get to know all seven of them, at least well enough to command them, all before the 30th. If they wanted to win the mock battle, anyway. Oh Goddess, the _mock battle-_ Wilbur had never fought before, and neither had his brothers! He’d sparred with Techno a few times, but they’d never taken the matches too seriously, and all four of them only knew basic magic.

It was going to be a disaster!

He must’ve fallen asleep like that at some point, his head spinning with all his questions and concerns, because the next thing he knew it was morning. Sunlight filtered in through the gap in the curtains, shining through his eyelids and forcing him to turn away to avoid it. He squinted at the wall, hearing birdcall just beyond the window, a gentle rustling from the room next door...

Goddess, it was only his second day at school, and he was already questioning his life decisions.

* * *

Class was much more uneventful than yesterday, thankfully. Evening the playing field was still the main objective, so aside from Quackity’s constant humming and Tommy occasionally snickering at his own jokes, everyone mostly just stayed quiet and kept their heads down. The sooner they got this work over and done with, the sooner they could move on to more interesting things - weapons, magic, fighting styles.

When the lesson was done, Wilbur quickly made his way out to the courtyard. Techno came to join him within seconds, gnawing at his bottom lip and tapping an erratic beat into his thigh.

“You okay?” Wilbur asked quietly, casting a glance back into the classroom. The majority of the students were getting ready to leave themselves, though he noticed that Tommy had made his way to the front row. The blond was talking to Niki and Fundy, who both looked rather worried, while Eret stood beside them, his expression unreadable (stupid sunglasses!).

Techno let out a small hum, then shrugged. “Little overstimulated.”

Wilbur frowned, opening his mouth to respond, but was promptly cut off by a different brother’s voice.

“Hey, Will, Techno!” Tubbo called out, rushing over to them.

Wilbur didn’t miss the way Techno flinched at the sudden noise.

“We’re all heading to the dining hall,” Tubbo explained, gesturing over his shoulder. Quackity, Jack and Purpled were standing in the doorway, chatting idly. “You wanna come with us?”

“Uh...” Wilbur was more than willing, honestly grateful for the easy opportunity to get to know the members of his house. _However..._ He looked at Techno again, instantly registering how dark red eyes flickered between him and Tubbo, pupils blown wide. “I think we might just head back home, actually.”

“Oh...” Though it was clear he tried to hide it, Tubbo couldn’t completely cover up his disappointment.

Techno winced, closing his eyes briefly before muttering, “You should go, Wilbur.”

“Are you sure?” Wilbur knew Techno wasn’t helpless, but the introvert had always appreciated having someone there to ground him when he was overwhelmed. Phil was usually the one to help, but Wilbur had stepped in enough times in the past to know what to do.

“I can take care of myself.” Between the choice of words and Techno’s natural voice, anyone else might’ve thought he was being bitter or resentful. Wilbur, luckily, knew his brother well enough to recognise the veiled endearment.

“Okay then. I’ll tag along, Tubbo.”

His younger brother grinned ear to ear, turning to run back to the group and immediately barrelling straight into Quackity, who’d come up behind him while he was talking. They both just about managed to stay standing, with Tubbo quickly grabbing at Quackity’s arm to keep himself upright.

“Careful there, man,” Quackity chuckled, letting the brunet hold on to him until he’d regained his balance. “So, Wilbur, you’re coming, then?”

“Yeah. Should we get going?”

“You can, but I’m gonna wait for Karl and Sapnap first.” Quackity nodded towards the Green Dragons’ classroom door, which was still shut tight.

Wilbur had no idea who Karl was, but since he kinda wanted to wait for Tommy anyway, he figured there was no harm in finding out.

Jack and Purpled made their way over to Tubbo, easily falling into conversation once again. Quackity interjected here and there, keeping most of his attention on the closed classroom. Puffy and Niki eventually emerged into the courtyard, smiling brightly as they spoke. Eret left soon after, lips drawn into a thin line, and crossed the yard to the reception hall without stopping once. Techno just disappeared at some point; Wilbur stopped paying attention for a few seconds, and then his brother was gone. Understandable, but still slightly disorienting.

Finally, Tommy and Fundy came out, whispering to each other about... something. Tommy was gesturing rather enthusiastically, a stark contrast to how quiet his voice was. A quiet Tommy was _rare._ Whatever the two were talking about, he clearly didn’t want anyone overhearing.

Right on cue, the other classroom’s doors swung open. Wilbur preemptively put his hands over his ears, bracing himself as the small crowd of chaos incarnate tumbled out into the courtyard.

“Karlos!” Quackity gasped, darting towards the group and throwing himself at one of the students.

Karl reacted just in time, holding his arms out to catch Quackity and preventing them both from crashing to the ground. He took a second to right himself, then burst into a fit of giggles, with Quackity still clinging to him like a koala. After a moment, Wilbur was able to recognise him as the man with the purple hoodie from yesterday.

“What the honk, Alex?” Karl laughed, trying to carefully pry Quackity off of him.

“We’re all gonna go eat together,” Quackity explained, reluctantly letting go of Karl and taking a couple steps back. He turned to look at the rest of the Green Dragons, the majority of which were staring at him in confusion. “You guys can come too!”

“Oh, I’d love to, but, uh...” Karl glanced over at his housemates, the grin slipping from his face.

Skeppy shook his head and flashed a quick smile. “Go for it. I can handle setting up.”

“Setting up?” Quackity repeated questioningly.

“It’s Bad’s birthday today, so we’re gonna throw a little party for him,” Sapnap explained, wandering over and throwing an arm around Karl’s shoulders. “But if Skeppy’s offering to prep it himself, I’ll gladly take the extra time with Karl.”

“Hey, if you’re going, I am too,” Dream interrupted.

“Okay, well- I’d rather not do it _all_ by myself,” Skeppy mumbled.

“We’ll still help, don’t worry,” Sam assured him, resting a hand on Skeppy’s shoulder. The student by his side nodded in agreement, a pair of dark brown cat ears poking out through his hair.

“See, it’s _fine!_ ” Sapnap was already steering Karl towards the hall. Dream and Quackity quickly followed; Tubbo started tugging Wilbur along by the arm, with Jack and Purpled just behind them.

Tommy fell into step beside Tubbo, while Fundy hurried to the front to walk with Dream. The kitsune leant in and whispered to him, prompting the masked man to glance back at the group of teens. He soon faced forward again, nodding once. Fundy frowned, but slowed his pace, letting Dream pull ahead.

Wilbur was reminded once more that he needed to talk to Tommy about yesterday, and resolved to do so before the end of the day. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something was stirring up anxiety in his gut, telling him that he _had_ to ask soon.

Quackity led the group south to the dining hall, throwing his arms out as they passed the threshold and grinning like a madman. The room was maybe half full, with plenty of tables still free and only a dull buzz of noise in the air. Something in the kitchens smelled _really_ good, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile when he saw Tommy and Tubbo’s eyes light up, their sensitive senses of smell catching the scent instantly. Wilbur’s own sense of taste was pretty dodgy, so he tended to rely on his other senses when it came to food, and right now his nose was telling him that _something_ in here was _good._

Wilbur copied his brothers for the most part, praying they wouldn’t pick out anything with a texture that ruined his appetite. They settled on some kind of seafood dish (it probably had a name, but he couldn’t really be bothered to ask), which admittedly looked _and_ smelled delicious. Once everyone’s plates were loaded with food, Quackity herded the group over to one of the empty benches.

Quackity and Sapnap each took a seat on either side of Karl, with Dream settling at Sapnap’s other side. Wilbur chose to sit opposite Quackity, followed by Tubbo, Jack, Tommy (who purposely slammed his plate down directly in front of Dream) and finally Purpled. Fundy appeared to hesitate for a moment, glancing between the two sides of the table, before dropping onto the bench beside Dream.

“See, isn’t this nice?” Quackity sighed contentedly. “It’s been way too long since we ate together.”

“Only a few weeks,” Sapnap pointed out.

“Didn’t Garreg Mach only start letting people in a few days ago?” Wilbur asked, genuinely confused. Him and his brothers had been here for a month, but that was only because Phil wanted to make sure they were used to the place before they got thrown into school - it was literally just nepotism. The academy’s doors had been closed to everyone else until a little under a week ago.

Quackity nodded. “We knew each other before coming to Garreg Mach. Back when I lived in the SMP, me and Sapnap’s families shared a territory.”

“We kept meeting up after he moved, and one day this guy” - Sapnap paused to gently nudge Karl with his elbow - “wandered in outta nowhere, then he just kept showing up whenever we met up, so... now there’s three of us.”

“Way to make it sound like you didn’t want me there,” Karl muttered, pouting.

Quackity and Sapnap both immediately dissolved into unintelligible rambling. Wilbur could occasionally pick out a “sorry” or “of course we did,” but when Quackity suddenly started speaking a different language, he promptly gave up on trying to understand what was going on.

“I can’t help feeling a little left out, here,” Dream interjected. When Wilbur looked over at him, the first thing he noticed was that the mask had shifted, just a little. A slight tilt upwards, revealing his mouth but still keeping the rest of his face covered. He had a small scar right at the corner of his lip, and a few faint freckles peeked out from beneath his mask.

It took a good few seconds for Wilbur to abruptly realise that, oh yeah, you couldn’t eat _through_ porcelain. Dream moving his mask made complete sense, it was just a little jarring.

“Hey, you left _yourself_ out,” Sapnap scoffed. “I invited you to hang out with me and Quackity _several_ times, but you were always ‘too busy.’” He actually put down his cutlery for a second just to mime air quotes.

“I- well...” Dream apparently had no rebuttal for that, lowering his head and absently pushing the food around on his plate. It was still impossible to see his full expression, but the nervous bite of his lip was a pretty good indicator.

The table was mostly quiet for a short while after that, each student happy to just enjoy their meal. And then, as was inevitable...

“Is this cannibalism?” Tommy wondered aloud, spearing a chunk of salmon on his fork.

Quackity exhaled sharply, while Dream promptly started choking on his own mouthful. Sapnap snorted and thumped the poor man on the back, earning a cough and a whispered, “Thanks,” in response. Wilbur only sighed, resting his elbow on the table and propping his head up with his hand; he was used to this, unfortunately.

“No, I’m serious!” Tommy huffed, jabbing the fork in his brother’s direction. “We’re the Blue Salmon, right? Why are we eating our mascot? ...now that I think about it, why _is_ it our mascot?”

“Because the founder of L’Manberg fucked a salmon,” Sapnap said bluntly, and now it was Wilbur’s turn to be taken aback. Thankfully, he didn’t have any food in his mouth, though he still came dangerously close to choking on air. Tommy just looked mortified, staring at Sapnap with wide eyes.

Fundy groaned loudly, his ears pressing back against his head. “That’s just not true at all. It’s a _myth,_ at best! We’re the Blue Salmon ’cause L’Manberg was originally built on a lake that was famous for its salmon.”

Wilbur was pretty sure he’d never seen Tommy so relieved. The blond recovered pretty quickly after that, which was simultaneously reassuring and mildly disappointing.

“What about you guys, then?” Tommy pointed his fork at Dream. “Dragons are _so_ much cooler than fish. How’d you get the name?”

Dream merely shrugged, taking another bite of his meal. “The SMP was founded by dragonslayers.”

It was such a harmless, casual sentence, but it held so much more weight than he could’ve possibly known. Tubbo tensed up at Wilbur’s side, and Tommy suddenly seemed to find his plate rather unappetising, if the look on his face was anything to go by. Wilbur could sense the discomfort radiating off of both of them, and he empathised all too strongly. He remembered reading once, in some old history book back at their little cabin, that the founders of the SMP had killed the dragons during the war. Back then, he’d felt uneasy, too; the feeling wasn’t so strong this time, but it was definitely still there.

“That’s a way cooler story than just _living near a lake,_ ” Jack complained, mercifully easing the tension just a little.

“It’s definitely more interesting. Don’t know if I’d call mass murder ‘cool,’ though,” Purpled hummed, instantly bringing the mood back down. He faltered for a moment when he noticed that everyone was now looking at him, but Fundy jumped in before he could try to take back what he’d said.

“Very true. Our emblem might not be as intimidating, but at least it’s _moral._ ” Fundy smirked, glancing over at Dream. “We were named after the food that kept our ancestors alive, and _you_ were named after the race that your ancestors _genocided._ ”

A heavy silence fell over the table. Dream’s grip tightened on his silverware, while Sapnap and Quackity shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Karl tugged at the edge of his sleeve, Tubbo leant almost imperceptibly into Wilbur, Jack and Purpled exchanged nervous glances, and Tommy’s leg started bouncing like crazy under the table. Fundy had basically just said the same thing Dream had, but the way he went about it made it sound so much worse, made reality hit so much harder.

That uneasy feeling was back in full force, now.

“This is really awkward,” Tommy eventually commented, finally taking a bite of his salmon. It may not have been tonally appropriate, but the flippant way he spoke was enough to cut through the tension in the air. A relieved smile from Karl, a quiet laugh behind Dream’s mask, an eye-roll from Fundy.

Tommy’s stubbornness could be a good thing, sometimes.

* * *

Techno was predictably uninterested when Wilbur tried to talk about the dinner, only giving a few noncommittal hums with his nose still stuck in Eret’s Crest book. He seemed to be taking his research pretty seriously, though he admitted that he hadn’t found anything to help them understand their situation in the book.

“I’ll probably start looking in the library tomorrow, if we can’t find Phil,” he sighed, letting the book fall shut and idly tracing the Crest on the cover.

There was still no sign of their father, unfortunately. It wasn’t as if they were unused to the behaviour; Phil often left them alone for weeks at a time back in their cabin. However, Wilbur _had_ been hoping, just a little, that living in the same place as their father might mean they saw him more. So much for that, apparently.

When Tommy eventually decided to turn in for the night, Wilbur took the chance to follow, catching the teen just before he disappeared into his room.

“Look, Tommy, about yesterday...” Wilbur hesitated, wanting to make sure he phrased the question right.

Tommy leant back against his door and squinted at him, clearly confused. “What about yesterday?”

“You...” He was overthinking this too much, wasn’t he? Something about Dream just made him start to doubt things, for some reason. “Yesterday, when you looked at Dream, you got really quiet and nervous. What was that about?”

Tommy was silent for a few seconds, staring up at his brother blankly. Then he blinked, and seemed to suddenly be trying to look everywhere _but_ at Wilbur. “Oh, that, uh- I, uh- the mask? Yeah, the mask! Just spooked me a bit.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Tommy.”

“I am an _amazing_ liar, prick,” Tommy huffed. A moment later, he abruptly realised what he’d just done, and let out a groan. “Goddess _dammit!_ ”

Despite Wilbur’s best attempt to keep a straight face, he still felt the corners of his mouth briefly twitch upwards. “Just tell me what happened, Tommy.”

“I... I can’t,” the blond mumbled, tugging at the collar of his uniform. “I promised Fundy and Niki I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

 _Fundy and Niki?_ Wilbur frowned, thinking back to when he’d glimpsed their conversation. That’d only been that morning... He should’ve asked yesterday! “Why would they make you promise that?”

“It’s a... sensitive topic,” Tommy said slowly, evidently considering every word before it left his mouth. It was rare for him to actually think before he spoke; in any other situation, Wilbur might’ve been proud, but right now it was honestly just frustrating. “It’s the kinda thing they should really tell you themselves, so... if you wanna know, talk to them, I guess? Or just... ask Dream. He should know what you’re on about.”

“I guess I have to, now,” Wilbur sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. He was _really_ hoping this wasn’t going to turn into a fetch quest. “Whatever. I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You don’t get that shaken up very often.” Tommy was definitely easily startled, but it was rare that anything caused that kind of lasting nervousness.

“Nah, I’m fine,” the teen chuckled, flashing a grin just to prove his point. Silver braces connected each tooth, keeping barely noticeable fangs from stabbing into his lip. “I was just a little surprised. No big deal.”

Wilbur chose to take his brother at his word, letting Tommy go to his room before heading back to his own.

Sleep evaded him just as easily as it had the night before, stress and worry and confusion whirling in his brain, forcing his thoughts to run so fast that each one never even had a chance to develop. He had even more questions now than he had yesterday, and he could sense the anxiety he’d conquered years ago threatening to rear its ugly head once again.

He couldn’t be sure when he drifted off, or if he even did, because when he noticed the sun beginning to rise through his window he was still just as tired as when he first went to bed. It was almost impossible to focus in class that day, and he managed to completely zone out by the end of it. He only even realised the lesson was over when Techno stood up beside him and _left._

The Green Dragons had actually gotten out of their classroom first today, and they were already swarming around the courtyard by time Wilbur stumbled out. He paused in the doorway, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm as he looked around the yard. Tommy and Tubbo sat at a bench with Jack between them, leaning in towards him while he flipped through one of the course guides. At the entrance to the reception hall, Techno handed Eret a book, before hurrying away down the hall. Dream stood at the edge of the courtyard, accompanied by a vaguely familiar blond. Wilbur was certain he’d seen the man before, but his weary brain was failing to connect the dots right now.

Dream eventually noticed Wilbur staring and waved him over. The blond followed the masked man’s gaze, and tensed when he saw Wilbur approach.

“Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna fall asleep standing up,” Dream observed, tilting his head in Wilbur’s direction.

“I just didn’t sleep well last night,” he admitted.

“Well, don’t push yourself.” Dream paused for a moment, and Wilbur had to look away from the mask’s expressionless smile. Goddess, it was unsettling. “Have you met Punz, by the way?”

Punz, as the blond was apparently called, winced and nodded. “We spoke, once.” He cleared his throat and turned to face Wilbur, hesitating before saying, “Sorry about that. One of the monks explained it to me afterwards, I- I didn’t know you were a friend of Philza’s.”

It took him a second, but Wilbur did finally manage to put the pieces together. Blond hair, blue eyes, gaudy necklace- “You’re that squire I saw at the monastery the other day!”

Punz nodded again, visibly relieved.

“Are you... part of the Green Dragons?” Wilbur asked, glancing over at Dream.

“Well, _technically_ no,” Punz hummed, looking thoughtful. “Their professor just lets me sit in on their lessons sometimes.”

“You may as well be one of us, though,” Dream chuckled. “Whenever you’re not training, you’re hanging out with us.”

“It’s not like there’s anything else to do around here.” Wilbur thought Punz sounded somewhat resentful, but he was too tired to be entirely sure.

Dream merely shrugged and shifted his attention back to Wilbur. “Anyway... Was there a reason you were watching us, or were you just zoning out?”

Reason... he was... Right!

“Oh, there was, actually.” He did his best to focus despite the fog filling his head. “I wanna talk about what happened with Tommy on Tuesday.”

“Tommy?” Dream cocked his head to the side, then abruptly straightened up a few seconds later. “Oh, you mean when he got all scared and ran off? Yeah, Fundy explained yesterday. He has ESCP, right?”

“Right..?” How was that relevant?

Dream glanced momentarily at Punz, who subtly nodded, then turned his back to Wilbur. He brushed aside the hair at his nape with one hand and tugged down the collar of his uniform with the other. At the back of his neck, directly over his spine, was the distinctive mark of a Crest, just a few shades darker than his skin tone. Two concentric circles, the outer one split into thirds, with eight spikes around the edge.

For a minute, Wilbur was speechless. He _knew_ Crests. He knew what they all looked like. That... “What is that?”

“The Crest of Ernest.” Dream quickly turned around again, rubbing at the back of his neck. He almost looked self-conscious. “Nobody knows who the Goddess originally gifted it to, so it’s not even _in_ most books about Crests. The ones it _does_ show up in usually just say it’s a myth, and I can’t blame them. Me and my sister, we- neither of us even know who we inherited it from.”

Wilbur truly had no idea what to say. He’d been shocked and confused enough when he found out the Saints’ Crests were supposed to have died out. Now there was apparently a Crest he’d never even known _existed._ Going to school was meant to teach him things, not make him question _everything_ he’d ever learned!

“I’m guessing Tommy sensed I had a Crest, then freaked out when he didn’t recognize it,” Dream continued.

That... made sense, he supposed. Something still wasn’t quite adding up, though. Tommy had specifically gone to Niki after that first confrontation, and it had been her and Fundy to make him swear not to talk about it. How would even have known what was going on? All Tommy would’ve been able to say is that he didn’t recognise Dream’s Crest, so why would they..?

“That’s not the full story, is it?”

Dream froze, Punz’s expression darkened, and Wilbur was suddenly very glad they were out in the open in the middle of the day.

“Huh. Guess I wasn’t giving you enough credit,” Dream sighed, crossing his arms.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wilbur saw Punz rest his hand on the hilt of his sword. He could _feel_ his pupils contract into slits, forcing his vision to focus on the sliver of iron visible at the edge of the scabbard. His instincts, though dull with exhaustion, started screaming at him to run, to get away, to summon a wall of fire and disappear in the smoke.

Thankfully, Dream shook his head, and Punz reluctantly let go of his weapon.

“Fair enough, fair enough.” Dream inclined his head slightly, tapping an irregular rhythm on his bicep. “Tell you what, Wilbur. If you win the mock battle at the end of the month, I’ll tell you the rest of the story. I’ll swear on it.”

“ _What?_ ” Punz hissed, his gaze shooting straight up to Dream’s mask.

Dream simply shrugged. “People already know, anyway. It’s not the end of the world if _one more_ finds out.”

“What if I don’t win?” Wilbur dared to ask. He was planning to give the fight his best effort regardless, but he still wasn’t too confident about his house’s chances.

“Then... I guess you’ll find out when the time is right,” Dream replied vaguely.

It wasn’t even an answer, really. Still, Wilbur had nothing to lose from agreeing. Punz looked rather fed up with the situation, while Dream remained impossible to read. Hell, even if the mask weren’t in the way, Wilbur was so generally _lost_ that he probably wouldn’t have been able to guess Dream’s thoughts anyway. The entirety of the past few days had just been too confusing; he needed a _nap._

So, he headed straight back home after that. None of his brothers were there, predictably, and he was actually almost grateful. His thoughts were all jumbled; he really needed to take a minute to just process everything before it started to overwhelm him.

He’d learned to deal with his own emotions a long time ago. Tommy always got antsy and uncomfortable whenever anyone tried to talk about mental problems. Techno understood, and could often empathise, but he struggled when it came to expressing himself. Tubbo tended to be too blunt during conversations, or simply didn’t understand why something was an issue, and _Phil-_ Phil was just never around! Wilbur was more than used to handling these things by himself.

It was fine.

He slowly made his way up the stairs to his room, and promptly passed out the moment his head hit his pillow.

Wilbur had wanted to attend Garreg Mach so that he could learn and discover more of what the world had to offer. At the cabin, all he’d had were shelves of outdated books and what little he could glean from visiting the nearby village. He wanted to see other perspectives, different ways of life. And yet, right now... he honestly felt more lost and confused than when he’d started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not respond, but I do read and appreciate every comment.
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me @call-me-yin on Tumblr!


	3. Companionship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a slight unplanned hiatus for a while there due to some stuff going on irl, but things should be okay now. Updates probably still won't be super consistent, but they'll be more frequent, at least.
> 
> Now, here's an extra long chapter to make up for the wait!

The rest of the week passed relatively calmly, allowing the students to start settling into a routine. Wilbur would wake at sunrise, put on his uniform (always making sure to check that the collar covered his Crest and scar), and head to class with his brothers. They’d finish shortly after noon, free to do whatever they wished for the rest of the day. Sometimes Karl or Quackity or Skeppy would drag everyone to the dining hall, and through this Wilbur got to know the remaining Green Dragons. Ant, a laguz with cat ears and a knack for black magic; Ponk, who seemed to have an almost concerning fascination with healing spells; Callahan, who couldn’t speak but still easily intimidated the rest of his house; and... Alyssa.

Wilbur had not yet been able to have a full conversation with Alyssa, thanks to Tommy’s insistence on interrupting and teasing him for talking to a woman.

Thankfully, aside from his brother being characteristically annoying, nothing else went wrong in the next few days.

On Saturday, there was an exhilarated buzz in the air as Wilbur entered the classroom. Everyone just seemed... brighter, in a sense. The bored resignation they’d all embodied during past lessons was gone, almost entirely.

“Why’s everyone so energetic today?” he asked, taking his usual seat next to Techno.

“Apparently it’s our last day of lessons,” Techno said with a shrug. “Next week they start showing us what happens on each course.” His voice was as monotone as ever, but it was impossible to mistake the glint in his eye.

Honestly, Wilbur couldn’t blame him. As nervous as he was, he was also eager to try out fighting for real. He’d read through the course guide several times, and certainly had a few ideas by now, but nothing could be quite as helpful as seeing it all first-hand.

The class settled down marginally when the professor arrived, though their excitement was still evident in wide smiles and restless limbs, in their enthusiastic responses to the register.

“As I’m guessing you know, you’ll be focusing more on training starting next week, so I only have today to touch on anything we haven’t covered yet,” the professor explained. “While we have the chance, I figured I’d briefly go over Crests.”

Eret visibly perked up at that, while Wilbur couldn’t help but tense at the mere mention. The rest of the students seemed a little confused, exchanging glances and murmuring amongst themselves.

“Now, I’m sure all of you already know what Crests are. However, some of you haven’t attended combat schools before, so you may be unaware of their practical applications.”

It made sense, but it didn’t do much to calm Wilbur’s nerves.

“For the sake of clarity, we’ll start at the beginning,” the professor stated, leaning against their desk and clearing their throat. “Shortly after the founding of L’Manberg and the SMP, before the start of the Great War, the Goddess gifted powerful blessings to a select few of her disciples. These blessings came to be known as Crests. The effects of them ranged from strengthening the bearer’s magic to granting them superhuman reflexes, and no two Crests are quite the same.”

“Don’t some Crests do basically the same thing, though?” Quackity interjected.

“They do the same thing, but they work in different ways,” Eret piped up, clearly invested in the topic. “Some of them strengthen your abilities more than others, and some Crests are only active some of the time.”

“That’s... quite right.” The professor nodded, a small smile on their face. Eret chuckled nervously and rubbed at the back of his neck, mumbling a quick apology, but the professor just waved a hand dismissively. “We don’t really have the time to go over the specifics of each Crest, but... Well, now that I think about it, how many of you _have_ a Crest?”

Niki, of course, raised her hand. Quackity soon joined her, along with Eret and a hesitant Fundy. Wilbur had to consciously remind himself not to react to the question, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Tommy grabbing at Tubbo to keep the brunet’s arm down.

“That’s about what I expected,” the professor hummed. “You four are from noble families, so I imagine you’ve been taught about your particular Crests already.”

The students in question all nodded, though Niki appeared somewhat dispirited, fiddling with the white strands of her hair and staring pointedly down at her desk. Fundy also looked more than discomfited, ears pinned back and tail twitching irritably.

“Speaking more generally, now - the majority of Crest bearers have a minor healing factor, and they tend to be physically stronger than the average person. There are, of course, exceptions.”

Tubbo smirked, glancing sideways at Tommy, who slumped in his seat and glared back with unbridled loathing.

“Crests are highly sought after nowadays, sometimes for their benefits, but more often because they denote an upper class bloodline. It’s rare, but there are even cases of noble families disowning their children if they lack a Crest, or adopting a distant relative just because they happen to bear one.” The professor’s distaste for the subject was clear on their face, but they kept going regardless.

Wilbur frowned, his mind beginning to wander as the conversation continued. People really cared about Crests, didn’t they..? Phil had explained to him, when he started sparring with Techno, what their Crests were and what they did. He hadn’t once suggested that they were particularly valuable - it was merely another trait, like dimples or freckles. Wilbur had never asked anyone in the nearby village if they had a Crest; he just didn’t think it was all that important. The thought didn’t even cross his mind.

Learning new things that made him question everything he’d been taught was starting to become a trend, apparently.

The lesson was over before he knew it. The weekend passed just as quickly, though notably more uncomfortably. A sense of unease seemed to follow him whenever he was outside, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. A malaise he couldn’t quite explain, breathing down his neck and gripping at his heart, setting his nerves on edge. His anxiety became a constant, a dull buzz in the back of his head, spiking abruptly whenever he saw a flash of green at the corner of his vision. The perplexing concern drained his energy pretty quickly, and he eventually resorted to letting Tubbo practise a healing spell on him, just to see if it would help.

It didn’t.

Monday arrived, and Wilbur was woken not by the sun, but by a loud bang and a high-pitched scream from next door. The abrupt noise was soon followed by a stream of colourful swears, and if it weren’t a school day Wilbur might’ve just hid his head under his pillow and ignored it.

Unfortunately, he had to get up and get ready, and when he left his room afterwards he was met by a cackling Tubbo and a thoroughly disgruntled Tommy. The blond had a faint bruise blossoming on his chin, answering only with a glare when Wilbur questioned it.

Techno soon joined them, and the four made their way out of the house and over to the classrooms. Oddly enough, when they arrived, the doors to both were still closed, and the students were all gathered outside.

“What’s going on?” Wilbur questioned, going to stand with the rest of his class.

“Waiting for... someone to show up,” Puffy said with a shrug.

Wilbur still looked confused, so Eret stepped in to explain, “Someone’s coming to talk about weapons and fighting styles. I imagine it’ll be one of the knights.”

“Ah.” Wilbur nodded, taking a couple steps back while Tommy and Tubbo rushed forward to mingle with the conjoined classes. Techno hovered at the edge of the courtyard, looking around occasionally but refusing to step any closer to the large group.

“Is he alright?” Niki asked gently, stood at Wilbur’s side but clearly referring to his brother.

“He’s just not a fan of crowds,” Wilbur dismissed, earning a quiet hum in response. There was definitely more to it, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable dissecting Techno’s mental state for the sake of someone they didn’t even know that well. Especially when he wasn’t completely sure what was going on himself.

After a few minutes of waiting, the peace was eventually disrupted by Skeppy shouting, “Bad!”

Wilbur started at the sudden noise, glancing around until he found the culprit, then following the excited student’s gaze. There was a newcomer at the edge of the group: a brunet with glasses, in a dark cloak and cowl with neat crimson embroidery. It was the man who’d been with Sam and Skeppy in the reception hall, back on the first day.

“Hey, Skeppy,” he greeted with a smile, quickly drawing the attention of the rest of the students.

“Wait, are you with us?” Dream queried, head cocked to the side.

Bad shook his head, then turned his gaze towards Wilbur. “I’m actually taking the Blue Salmon today. Vik should be here to deal with the Green Dragons any minute now. We’re going to head to the training grounds to talk about different weapons, and I believe Vik’s taking you to the stables to start off. We’ll switch at around noon.”

The excitement in the air was palpable. Tommy actually cheered when Bad started to lead them away from the courtyard, earning laughter from Tubbo and Quackity and a warm smile from the nearby Puffy.

At the north end of the academy, near the dorms, was a pair of huge wooden doors, several metres high and reinforced with steel along every edge. A giant deadbolt usually kept them shut, and there was always a knight or two waiting just outside, so Wilbur had never bothered trying to see what was in there. There were too many questions already clogging up his brain, anyway.

Today, though, the lock was undone, and the knights on guard moved aside with a nod when they saw the group approaching. Bad quickly came to a halt, gesturing for the students to do the same, allowing them to watch on in awe as the great doors slowly swung open. Aged wood creaked under its own weight, drowning out Wilbur’s soft gasp and what sounded like a prayer from Quackity.

With a bright smile on his face, Bad showed the class into a large room lined with ornate sconces and pillars. A wide square depression in the centre was exposed to the open air, floored with smooth white bricks that reflected the sunlight.

“Welcome to the training grounds, everyone,” Bad said cheerily, stepping forward into the lowered area, which Wilbur now realised was likely meant to be a sort of arena. “This is where the knights come to spar and practice their skills. And, starting this Sunday, students will also be allowed in here during free time.”

The small crowd soon dispersed around the room, wanting to investigate the new space.

Tommy was already sneaking around the edge and ducking behind random pillars, his curiosity taking a sledgehammer to his attention span in a way that was frustratingly typical. Not that Wilbur was much better, to be fair. He noticed an odd shadow in one corner and immediately went to see what was casting it. He found Purpled already there, poking at a stack of archery targets, just waiting to be set up. The teen glanced up as Wilbur approached, hesitating before giving a slight nod.

“So, Bad,” Quackity began, leaning against one of the pillars. He was squinting at the man, caught somewhere between a frown and a scowl. “Are you, like, a knight?”

Bad shook his head. “More like... the academy nurse, essentially.”

“Oh! Do you know white magic?” Tubbo chirped, popping out from behind yet another pillar.

“I know every type of magic, actually,” Bad admitted, appearing briefly bashful.

That got Fundy’s attention very quickly. The kitsune quickly turned from where he was inspecting a sconce and hurried down into the arena. “Wait, wait, wait- _every_ type of magic? Even dark magic?”

“Well, yes.”

Techno perked up at that point, opening his mouth to speak, but he was promptly cut off by-

“I found the weapons!” Jack called out, drawing everyone’s gazes to the far wall. He stood in an open archway, gesturing to the room beyond. “Are we, uh- are we allowed to try them?”

Bad paused, looking thoughtful, then nodded. “There should only be training weapons in there, so yes. Just don’t start fighting yet.”

Wilbur waited for the expected rush of the more excitable students, letting Tommy and Tubbo and Quackity storm past before following at a more reasonable pace. The connecting room was rather big, but unfurnished, clearly meant to only act as storage. Rows of wooden racks held a frankly bizarre amount of weapons: dull swords and lances and axes, all made of some kind of soft wood. There were even a few bows spread neatly across a table, though there was a distinct lack of arrows present in the room.

“Oh, this is _so cool,_ ” Tommy chuckled, reaching for a sword. He tested the edge against his arm, predictably yielding no result, then gave the weapon an experimental swing. “Yeah, you could whack a bitch with this.”

“Language,” Bad chimed in, earning twin looks of disgust from Tommy and Quackity.

Wilbur’s hand ghosted over the grips of several weapons, before finally settling on a sword of his own. He did want to try other things, but as of right now, a sword was the only weapon he even knew how to hold.

“What if we prefer fighting with magic?” Niki questioned, turning away from the displays to look nervously at Bad.

“That’s fine! I do too, honestly. The point of this week is just to let you all experiment with different weapons,” Bad explained. “That’ll help you get a better idea of what courses you want to take, hopefully.”

Niki nodded, looking relieved, and left the room. Fundy quickly followed her; after taking a sword for themself, Eret tagged along as well. The rest of the class soon filed out too, various weapons clutched in hands trembling with excitement.

Tubbo had grabbed an axe, which he was idly tapping at the head of, but he still asked, “Out of curiosity, if I wanted to learn _offensive_ white magic, how would I go about that?”

“Well...” Bad hummed, putting a hand to his chin. “Except for Nosferatu, every damaging white magic spell is pretty advanced.”

“How does magic work in general, thinking about it?” Jack interjected, swinging a lance around lazily.

“That depends on which type of magic you’re using. White magic is fuelled by the caster’s faith.” Bad seemed suddenly much more confident, standing up a little straighter and speaking more clearly. “For most people, that ends up being religious faith, but it can be anything, really. A strong belief in yourself, or a cause, or the things you love. Black magic, on the other hand, is fuelled by reason. Logic, like an... understanding, of how things are and how they work.”

“What about dark magic?” Techno spoke up. He’d already taken a sword and an axe for himself, and almost tried to grab a bow as well before remembering he only had two hands, but apparently he still wasn’t done.

Bad looked conflicted, glancing away and hesitating before answering, “Dark magic... is complicated. First off, only some people can even use it to begin with. It’s completely random, as far as I know. Either you’re capable of using it, or you’re not - and if you’re not, there’s not much you can do.”

“If you _are_ capable,” Fundy cut in, crossing his arms and side-eyeing Techno, “dark magic is fueled by desire. The desire to fight, to survive, to _hurt._ ”

“ _Or_ the desire to protect,” Bad added, summoning a small ball of swirling purple energy. He cupped it in his palms, smiling at the class while it cast violet light across the planes of his face. “The desire to defend the things and the people you care about.”

Techno seemed to think about that for a while, falling silent and gazing at the floor. The class moved on, with Bad guiding them through exercises and stepping in to offer advice whenever anyone faltered. Wilbur still wasn’t necessarily confident, but he started to feel much more comfortable with a weapon in hand as the hours passed.

By noon, many students had split off, practising either by themselves or in pairs. Wilbur ended up crouched in one corner of the arena next to Niki, who quietly asked if he knew fire magic, then grinned when he said yes. She showed him a spell, Bolganone, which drew a spiral of flames along the ground before forming into a single pillar of fire. It was on a small scale, out of respect for their surroundings, but it was still impressive.

“You have to imagine four corners of a square. Then, you draw the heat from the air, and pull it in towards the centre of the square,” Niki explained, tracing the new line of ash on the ground with her finger. “When it gets to the middle, you let it go, and it all erupts upwards.”

Wilbur nodded along, replaying the instructions in his mind. Once he was sure he had it, he lifted his hands and focused, on the warmth of the air and his own body and the ground beneath him. On _capturing_ that heat, pulling at it and manipulating it until the brick floor began to spark.

The lines drawn turned out much shakier than Niki’s demonstration, and the final blast was somewhat weak, but it was still _there._ Niki clapped and gently nudged him with her elbow, and Wilbur couldn’t help smiling.

Quackity, meanwhile, had started sparring with Tommy. He went in for one particularly heavy blow, bringing his lance down with a shout. The blond leapt out of the way, and the weapon struck the ground where he’d been standing, snapping clean in half in an instant and sending its wielder tumbling to the floor. Someone screamed at the sudden loud noise, while Tommy abruptly burst into laughter.

“Oops,” Quackity muttered, slowly sitting up and rubbing at his back. He chuckled to himself, glancing around with a sheepish grin. “Sorry! Accidentally used my Crest.”

Bad merely sighed, “Y’know what? I think it’s just about time to finish up here.”

* * *

The stables sat at the east end of the monastery grounds, near the main gates. They were only locked up at night, being mostly accessible during the day, though Wilbur had never felt a need to go inside. Seeing the occasional horse or pegasus be led outside was enough, honestly.

Right now, however, the doors were just blown wide open, and several horses were wandering around the flat sandy area in front of the stable. There was even a pegasus off to one side, pawing at the ground and snorting irritably.

“Oh, _Goddess._ Wait here, everyone,” Bad groaned, pulling down his hood and hurrying over to the winged equine. It shook its head and nickered softly when he reached out, resting a hand on its neck. “Really, now. Who let you out? Skeppy? Ponk? Muffinheads, the lot of them.”

After a minute or so of whispering soothing words, Bad took the pegasus’ reins and led it back into the stable. He reemerged a moment later, grimacing when he saw the horses still milling around.

“Okay, um... Can you guys sort yourselves by height? I just need to round the horses up, then I’ll be right with you.”

Bad waited just long enough to see that the instruction was being carried out, then turned and began to busy himself with his own task. Muttering broke out among the class as they tried to figure out who needed to go where, and they slowly started to organise themselves into a line.

Tommy snickered at Tubbo, who sighed and headed to one end of the line, so Wilbur gave the blond a shove as he passed on the way to the opposite end. The younger brother let out an offended gasp, whirling on the elder.

“What the hell, man?” the teen whined. Wilbur simply shrugged in response, earning himself a, “Well, fuck you too, then.”

“Language!”

Tommy looked like he was about to have an aneurysm, and Wilbur had to cover his smile with his hand to avoid provoking his brother further. It was always fun to rile the little gremlin up, but he had to exercise restraint sometimes. So he kept quiet, and Tommy grumbled to himself as he stepped into line, and the rest of the class gradually arranged themselves around them.

Fundy was struggling a bit, having to take off his hat and flatten his ears to try and figure out where he should be standing in regard to some students. Eret had to step out of his boots, which were apparently platforms, at one point, just to verify that he was actually taller than Techno. There was barely half an inch of difference between them, but Techno did turn out to be just slightly shorter. Tommy seemed pretty happy with that outcome, stood at Techno’s other side with a cocky grin on his face. In juxtaposition, Quackity was glaring daggers at everyone taller than him, which appeared to be at least half of the class.

Bad eventually returned, leading two horses by the reins; the others were presumably back in the stable. They were both dark brown, though one had a speckled back, and the other looked bored, if that was even possible.

“Someone remind me to strangle the Green Dragons later,” he sighed, sounding concerningly like he wasn’t joking. He let go of the reins and took a deep breath, dragging a hand down his face, then turned to the students. “Okay, so- Obviously, not everyone here is going to choose the riding course. You’re not all going to be fighting on horseback. _However,_ it’s very important that every knight is at least competent at riding. It’s our main means of transportation, and being able to quickly saddle up in a dangerous situation could save your life. So that’s what we’re doing this week, just... getting you all comfortable on horseback.”

Puffy was first. She seemed understandably reluctant, ears flicking nervously, but was still able to hoist herself into the speckled horse’s saddle without too much trouble, despite being the shortest there. Then came Niki, getting one foot in a stirrup and swinging herself up into the saddle with a practised ease. Once she got the go-ahead from Bad, she clicked her tongue, and the plain horse started forward at a steady walk.

“Have you done this before?” Bad asked, clearly impressed.

“Ah, yes!” Niki called back, a smile audible in her voice. “My family are pegasus breeders. You have to learn to ride one on the ground before you’re allowed to fly.”

Puffy slumped in the saddle, frowning. “I’m really getting shown up already.”

Bad walked over to show her how to get her horse moving, while Niki guided her own in a lap around the sandy area. She soon reached the starting point again, and dismounted just as easily. They continued down the line from there, with Tubbo taking Niki’s place, and Puffy gratefully relinquishing her horse once she’d managed a lap.

At one point, when the plain horse was unburdened, it slowly looked up and down the line of students, before settling its gaze on Techno. Nickering, it took a few steps closer, eyes bright with a surprising amount of awareness. Techno glanced at Tommy (who looked similarly confused), then Eret (who nodded encouragingly), then hesitantly reached a hand out towards the horse. It breathed and leaned forward, pressing its nose to his palm.

Techno’s expression didn’t change much, but the emotion shining in his eyes was enough to make Wilbur smile, a warmth blossoming in his chest.

“Aw, Carl likes you!” Bad laughed, having just noticed the situation.

Techno looked over at the instructor for a second, then immediately turned his attention back to the horse, mumbling its name.

“Wait, what about Karl?” Quackity butted in, awkwardly clambering off the speckled horse and passing the reins to Jack.

“No, he-” Bad paused for a moment, massaging his temples with a tired sigh. “ _Carl,_ with a C.”

Quackity blinked, then slowly turned to look at the animal in question. “Who names a horse _Carl?_ ”

Carl snorted derisively, earning a slight smile from Techno, and walked away.

The session continued, with Tommy eventually climbing onto the speckled horse, while Carl was handed over to Techno. They both seemed _very_ pleased with the arrangement; Techno was still smiling, which might’ve been the most positive emotion Wilbur had seen on him in years, and Tommy started cackling as soon as he was comfortable in the saddle.

“Hey, Wilbur! I’m on a fuckin’ horse!” he cheered.

“Language!”

Tommy ignored the protest, patting the horse’s shoulder and cryptically saying, “Juorse.”

He was an odd one, for sure.

* * *

The next day, when the class returned to the stables, Punz was there, brushing one of the horses. Wilbur’s anxiety spiked at the sight of the man, but he managed to keep himself mostly calm. Thankfully, the squire stayed out of the way for most of the session. They only actually interacted towards the end, when Bad led the students into the stable to demonstrate equipping and removing the horses’ tack. Punz and his horse were already inside, in one of the pens.

Tubbo noticed a wide, reinforced door at one end of the stables, and pointed it out. “What’s through there?”

“That’s where they keep the wyverns,” Punz cut in before Bad could respond.

Tommy audibly gasped at that, his eyes lighting up. “ _Wyverns?_ As in, like- dragons?!”

Punz faltered for a moment, looking mildly confused. “I mean, they’re not _quite_ the same thing, but-”

“Students aren’t allowed in there, anyway,” Bad interrupted. He was watching Punz out of the corner of his eye, seemingly caught somewhere between suspicion and exasperation. “Not until a month into the flying course.”

Tommy deflated, pouting and glaring up at the instructor, but Bad didn’t budge, just returning to the demonstration as if nothing had happened. At that moment, Wilbur remembered a certain fact, and an (admittedly stupid) idea came to mind. He waited for a lull in the conversation, swallowed his nerves, and made his way over to Punz, who greeted him with a curt nod.

“So... why _aren’t_ students allowed near the wyverns?” he asked, doing his best to feign curiosity.

Punz looked at him oddly, then seemed to think better of it and simply shrugged. “Too dangerous? I don’t know, I think it’s a little overcautious, personally. They’re all well-trained, so it’s not like they’re gonna eat anyone.”

Okay, that made his idea _slightly_ less stupid.

“It’s a shame,” Wilbur sighed, gesturing lazily to the rest of his class. “Tommy’s always been really interested in them. I bet he’d love to see one in person.”

“Well...” Punz paused, glancing back to make sure Bad wasn’t paying attention, then leaned in and whispered, “You didn’t hear it from me, but it’s actually _super_ easy to sneak in there. I figured it out when Pumpkin here” - he stroked the side of his horse’s neck, smiling - “managed to wander in one day. There’s this specific point in the evening, after training’s finished and before they lock up, when there’s no one around and the doors are still unlocked. You can basically just walk right in.”

And there it was: the glimmer of opportunity Wilbur was hoping for.

“Y’know, it’s actually Tommy’s birthday tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Punz’s eyes narrowed slightly, sizing him up. After a few seconds, the blond relaxed, turning back to Pumpkin and running a hand through the horse’s mane. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Appreciate it.”

And, to Wilbur’s surprise, the squire kept his word.

The next day, after being awoken by an overly excited Tommy, and hearing his brother’s constant preening throughout both of the day’s lessons, he wound up in the courtyard with a small collection of students. Tommy was somehow _still_ talking, gesticulating wildly as he ranted to everyone who would listen. Quackity wore a bright grin, nodding along enthusiastically to everything the blond was saying; Tubbo and Jack were both starting to look more tired than supportive, while Purpled mostly just seemed confused. Sam and Puffy stood off to the side, murmuring to each other and casting occasional glances at the group of teens, endeared smiles on their faces.

If Wilbur wasn’t used to this brand of chaos, he probably would’ve been _very_ annoyed by now. As it was, he was only mildly irritated. Tommy always got like this on his birthday - the kid was already arrogant during the rest of the year, so having a day where people were _supposed_ to like and pay attention to him..? A recipe for disaster, frankly.

Admittedly, though, there was some justification to being particularly excited today. It wasn’t just a birthday, it was Tommy’s 16th. It was a big deal! ...especially when one considered that people had to be 16 to even enroll at the Officers’ Academy. Luckily, the question of Tommy’s age hadn’t come up at all so far; whatever Phil had told the staff had seemingly placated them.

Speaking of Phil, the man was still mysteriously absent. Wilbur had certainly been hoping that their father would show up (it was their first milestone at the monastery, after all), but he wasn’t too surprised. Plenty of his own birthdays had been skipped in the past.

...anyway.

The door to the reception hall swung open, and Wilbur looked up to see Punz stepping out into the yard. The squire glanced around and soon spotted him, making eye contact before turning away and gesturing for the house leader to follow. Wilbur called for Tommy, who reluctantly peeled himself away from his group and made his way over to his brother.

“Don’t look so down. You’re gonna like this, I swear,” Wilbur assured, receiving a noncommittal shrug in response.

Tommy visibly tensed when he realised Punz was leading them, though he stubbornly refused to voice his concerns. Wilbur chose not to pry, either; he imagined it probably had something to do with whatever Dream was hiding, and he already knew he wouldn’t get anything out of his brother on that topic.

Punz showed them to the stables, slowing down a bit once they were in the open and glancing around cautiously. He had seemed fairly confident, but Wilbur supposed there was no harm in being extra careful. Tommy didn’t really seem to register what was going on, looking between Punz and Wilbur with confusion evident on his face. Wilbur just smiled and ruffled the teen’s hair, chuckling at the affronted squawk it earned him. Punz rolled his eyes at the display and went to open the stable door, ushering the two brothers inside.

The horses were unbothered by the intrusion, with most of them just ignoring the students entirely. A couple gave them a look before simply losing interest; the only one that seemed to care even slightly was Carl, who turned his gaze from Wilbur, to Tommy, and then back to his trough. Punz went for the reinforced door at the back, and an excitement began to radiate off of Tommy as he started to realise what was happening.

The door swung open with little resistance. Punz waved Wilbur and Tommy in, promptly shutting it behind them once they were all inside. The room beyond was lit with wrought iron lanterns, revealing a wide, segmented area with rows of wyverns (actual _wyverns!_ ) idling patiently behind dark wooden gates. The ceiling was low; Wilbur could still stand up straight, but every now and then he’d feel his hair brush against the roof.

“Holy _shit,_ ” Tommy breathed, staring at the wyverns with wide eyes.

Punz patted him on the shoulder and gestured to one of the gates. “They’re real well-trained, so as long as you don’t act threatening, they’ll be friendly.”

Tommy nodded enthusiastically, then shot off towards the gate. He fumbled with the lock for a few seconds before managing to get it open, clearly struggling to contain himself as he stepped into the pen. The wyvern within was a dark red colour, with a few scattered white scales across its back. It watched the giddy blond curiously, tilting its head to one side.

Keeping his eyes on his brother, Wilbur leant in towards Punz, quietly asking, “What was that about acting threatening?”

Punz waved off the question, nonchalant. “Don’t worry about it. I promise, the worst it’ll do is roar at him.”

Wilbur wasn’t entirely convinced, but he kept it to himself for now. He was right here, Tommy was still in reach, it was _fine._

“Hi there, big man.” Tommy’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. The wyvern snorted in response, mussing up his hair, and the evident childlike joy on the teen’s face was enough to persuade Wilbur. It _was_ fine.

“Put your hand out,” Punz suggested. “Vertical, palm flat.”

Tommy glanced over his shoulder at him, then turned his attention back to the wyvern, and hesitantly complied with the instructions. He held his arm out in front of him, shifting nervously as he waited for a reaction. The large lizard regarded him silently for a minute or so, then slowly stretched its neck forward, nudging his palm with the tip of its snout. Tommy beamed, brighter than Wilbur had seen in moons, and there was a brief moment of doubt somewhere deep within him. His brothers were all finding things to be excited about here, yet... the past week had only given _him_ unprecedented amounts of anxiety.

Then Tommy called out again, and the worry passed.

“Hey, Punz, does this guy have a name?” the teen asked. He’d taken a few steps closer to the wyvern now, running a hand along its snout and spiky jaw. A deep rumbling sound emanated from the lizard, who was clearly appreciative of the attention.

“Probably?” Punz made his way over, stopping by the gate and leaning over it to point at the wyvern’s harness. “There should be a tag on it somewhere.”

Tommy ran his hands along the strips of leather, ducking under the wyvern’s neck and eventually disappearing behind one of its wings. The reptile seemed unbothered, but that didn’t stop Wilbur’s anxiety spiking once again. Goddess, this was his idea in the first place; he needed to calm down.

“Henry!” Tommy’s head suddenly popped up from behind the wyvern’s shoulder. He patted the lizard’s back, then set about awkwardly clambering out of the pen. “His name’s Henry.”

“ _Oh,_ Henry! I know Henry,” Punz chuckled, reaching over the gate to help the teen out. “Karl brought this one in as an egg, if I’m remembering right.”

Wilbur paused, pondering the logistics of that for a moment before ultimately deciding that it did not, in fact, make any fucking sense. “As an _egg?_ How long has Karl been here?”

“Oh, he’s been here longer than I have,” Punz answered dismissively. He opened the gate to let Tommy dart out, then methodically shut and locked it behind him. “I’ve never bothered asking for specifics, but I’m _pretty_ sure he’s just always lived here. He only moved into the dorms last moon, though.”

“Where was he before that?”

“No clue.”

It was such a random thing to have a mystery surrounding it. Wilbur had assumed Karl was just another regular student, but apparently he’d been here for years before school even began. He vaguely remembered, from that first lunch he’d shared with his house, Sapnap mentioning that Karl had just _shown up_ one day. There were points, hints, pieces of information scattered around, but Wilbur had no idea how they were supposed to connect and fit together.

Damn it, he just wanted to go to school and be a knight so he could spend more time with his family. Why did Garreg Mach have to have so many mysteries?

He chose, rather stubbornly, to forget his questions about Karl for now. There were so many other things going on already; he could worry about an unrelated student’s origins some other time.

Tommy spent some time gawking at a few more of the wyverns, notably lingering next to one with stripes of yellow and blue scales that Punz said was called Mars. Eventually, though, they did have to leave, or risk being found when someone came to lock up for the night. Punz left them be, wishing Tommy a happy birthday before heading off towards the monastery. The sun was beginning to set, so Wilbur led his brother back to the dorms, enduring the blond’s incessant chattering the whole way. He did get quieter as they drew closer, thankfully, and finally fell silent when they came to a stop at the door to their home.

“Hey, Will?” Tommy sounded uncertain, almost nervous.

“Yeah?”

Tommy hesitated for a few seconds, tugging at his sleeves and the hem of his shirt. “That, uh- that was really cool. Thanks.”

It wasn’t often that Tommy spoke genuinely. He tended to stumble and falter whenever he got emotional, preferring to cover it all up with loud bravado, so hearing him be sincere always meant a lot. Feeling generous, Wilbur decided not to tease him for it, just smiling and nodding and letting the blond rush ahead. He soon followed, making sure to lock the door after himself, and made his way into the lounge. Tubbo was already having to fend off an overexcited Tommy, while Techno hid his face behind a course guide and pretended not to notice the chaos.

It was no wonder, really, that at the end of the week, Tommy signed himself up for the flying course. Most of the courses people decided on weren’t that surprising, actually; Tubbo went for white magic, just as he’d said he would, while Niki and Fundy both chose black magic. Techno spent several minutes just staring at the paper he was given, before ticking _half_ the boxes and handing it back to the professor, earning himself peals of laughter from Quackity. Wilbur couldn’t really say he was surprised, but it was still mildly terrifying to see.

He debated his own choices for quite a while, admittedly, letting his pen hover over the paper while he read and reread the list of courses. Weapons, magic, ways of fighting - he could pick as many of them as he wanted, though that did come with the caveat of taking up more of his time.

He’d been practising the spell Niki showed him all week, and it was a great feeling whenever he got it to work. It was getting more consistent now, and stronger. He liked that feeling, he thought. Would black magic be a good course? He could always quit if it didn’t work out, luckily.

Most of the decisions he ended up making went by that same logic. He kinda wanted to try it, and he could just stop if he was struggling too much. It was freeing, in a way, and he felt a little dumb for getting so stressed out over the choice earlier.

The excitement hanging over the students during the weekend was palpable, and despite his misgivings, Wilbur couldn’t help but share in the feeling. Even that strange malaise, now seemingly ever-present, couldn’t quite ruin the mood. Monday was almost anticlimactic, in that sense; the lessons themselves didn’t really change all that much, aside from being a bit more specific and having less students attend at a time. The houses also ended up mixing at points, with Wilbur running into Dream and Ant while practising black magic. Otherwise, though... not much changed. It was slightly disappointing, though he still felt somewhat relieved that he didn’t have to get used to yet another new schedule.

“I was thinking, since we’re allowed in the training grounds whenever now,” Karl brought up at lunch one day, halfway through the week. “What if _all_ of us met up there this weekend to practice together?”

“Oh, and we could make a competition out of it!” Quackity immediately suggested, already invested in the prospect. “Just a giant sparring session.”

There was unanimous agreement from practically everyone, and even those who were hesitant weren’t exactly opposed. So, when Sunday rolled around and Wilbur’s entire family was the most lethargic he’d ever seen them, it certainly caused a bit of whiplash. Techno was half-dissociated, responding quietly when spoken to but evidently not quite present, while Tommy looked like he was struggling just to stay awake. Apparently he’d been anticipating today so much that he’d been unable to sleep. Tubbo, meanwhile, was stuck in his room with a migraine. It wasn’t too uncommon of an occurrence, but it was still unfortunate.

Wilbur wasn’t used to being the most energetic of his brothers, though he definitely wasn’t going to complain about Tommy’s newfound reluctance to argue. He managed to herd the blond out of the house with little trouble, gently telling Techno to catch up when he was ready before following.

The training grounds were already practically full when they arrived, buzzing with activity from wall to wall. Most of the students there barely even noticed them enter, but a fair few did smile and wave before returning to whatever they’d been doing.

“Aren’t there usually four of you?” Jack questioned, pointing to the brothers with his sword.

“Techno and Tubbo aren’t feeling well,” Wilbur explained, nudging Tommy towards the storage room. The teen perked up at that, exhaustion forgotten in favour of rushing to get his hands on a weapon. “They might come along later.”

Tommy soon returned with an axe, grinning ear to ear as he looked around the arena. Wilbur left him to his own devices and headed to storage himself.

He’d realised pretty quickly that he preferred having some distance between him and his opponent during a fight. He’d experimented a little with a bow, but soon found he wasn’t a fan of how long nocking and firing took. Plus, ranged weapons like that required more than just a couple feet of space, and being that far away felt an awful lot like giving up control of the situation. Lances were the best middle ground he’d found so far - he could keep an enemy at arm’s length without having to surrender any ground.

People were starting to organise when he reemerged, finding partners, with half of them moving to the sheltered edges of the training grounds for now to prevent the arena getting too crowded. Wilbur found himself among the second group, waiting behind a pillar, and soon enough he had Quackity glued to his side, chattering away about something he didn’t quite catch.

Sam and Ponk seemed torn between taking their match seriously and joking around, while Dream and Sapnap were aiming for each other’s throats within seconds. Niki and Karl somehow managed to hold a conversation while slinging spells at each other, which was an odd contrast to Fundy growling at a laughing Eret.

Niki and Karl’s match ended first, when Karl dodged aside a little too quickly and stumbled. The next fireball struck his arm, searing clean through his hoodie and sending him to the ground with a yelp. Niki began apologising profusely, hurrying over to where he lay. She healed him with a quick spell, then the two moved off to one edge of the room, letting Purpled and Puffy take their place.

Sam easily got his sword to Ponk’s throat once he started taking things seriously. Fundy and Eret lasted a bit longer; eventually, Fundy fell back and held a hand up, summoning a cloud of small black flecks in the air. Humming like midges, they rushed towards Eret, disappearing in wisps of smoke the second they hit his skin. Eret faltered for a moment, seemingly confused, but didn’t get the chance to question what had happened before Fundy lunged at them. They attempted to dodge aside, but their movements were unusually slow and uncoordinated. The two students collided, and within seconds Fundy was standing over a supine Eret, pointing the tip of their own sword at their chest.

Eret understandably yielded after that. He was still sluggish after Fundy got him back on his feet, so the kitsune guided him over to a spare bench and called out to the rest of the students, “Does anyone know Restore?”

Ponk made his way over; Fundy whispered something to him, then he cast a white magic spell Wilbur didn’t recognise. Eret’s energy came back after that, and Wilbur couldn’t resist walking over, Quackity still trailing behind him.

“Fundy, what spell was that?” Wilbur asked, prompting a nervous chuckle from the kitsune. “With the... the little bug things?”

“Oh, that... it’s Swarm Z. It’s dark magic.” Fundy sounded almost self-conscious. “It doesn’t hurt that much, but it slows people down a lot.”

Quackity looked at him sceptically. “That’s a little OP.”

“Well, then be glad I’m in your house,” Fundy said with a shrug.

Dream and Sapnap were still going at it minutes later, only coming to a halt when the gates swung open again and Bad walked into the training grounds. Another man followed after him, an empty quiver at his hip and the mark of the Knights of Seiros emblazoned on his chest. He lifted a pair of white sunglasses, letting them rest atop his head, and was instantly tackled by Dream and a screaming Sapnap. This, obviously, got pretty much everyone’s attention, with all the students still sparring quickly stopping to see what was happening.

The knight was able to stay upright, somehow, despite getting attacked by two people noticeably taller than him. He just laughed off the affront, prying the pair off of him with a little help from Bad.

“You’re back!” Dream exclaimed, smile evident even behind his mask.

“Yeah, finally,” the knight sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Oi, what the hell is going on?” Tommy abruptly cut in, waving with his axe from the other end of the room.

Dream and Sapnap hardly even noticed the interruption, so Bad separated from the small group and made his way over to the rest of the students.

“That’s George, one of the knights,” he explained. “He’s been out on a mission for the past couple weeks.”

“Do the knights’ mission normally last that long?” Wilbur questioned.

“Oh, no, no. Usually it’s only a week at _most,_ ” Bad assured. “Whenever the knights are going to far-off places, they take flying mounts, so travel is much quicker. George’s battalion was sent to a village just west of the monastery, and it was only supposed to take a few days, so they only had normal horses. Things didn’t quite go to plan, though, so it ended up taking much longer.”

Wilbur frowned, glancing over at the knight. Dream and Sapnap were still borderline harassing him, though he had, at the very least, managed to get out of the entranceway and step down into the arena. “Did something happen on the mission?”

“You could say that,” George muttered bitterly. “We were supposed to be taking out a group of bandits, but no one warned us they had dark mages. They took us by surprise, stole our horses, and made us spend days trying to track them down. Eventually, we just had to give up and walk home.”

“So they just... got away?” Quackity asked, incredulous.

“Unfortunately. H and Lazar are already letting everyone at the monastery know.” George fell silent for a few seconds, then waved a hand dismissively and moved on. “I’m sure they’ll be able to figure out a plan. Right now, the important thing is that no one got hurt, and I’m finally home.”

“And just in time for Founding Day!” Sapnap cheered, clapping the knight on the back.

“Wait,” Tommy interjected, scrunching up his face in thought. “It’s not Founding Day for another, like... three moons.”

“Yeah, _L’Manberg_ Founding Day, maybe,” Dream pointed out. “The _SMP’s_ Founding Day is on the 25th.”

Wilbur made a mental note to mark that down on his calendar, right before Quackity reached the peak of his boredom and grabbed at the house leader’s arm. The student dragged him down into the arena, then off to a far corner, which was conveniently empty.

“I dunno who this George guy is, but if he’s just gonna walk in halfway through an event and get all the attention, I don’t like him,” Quackity decided, releasing Wilbur and taking a few steps away. He brandished his sword, bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning widely. “C’mon, sparring time. Show me what you can do, Mr. Soot!”

Wilbur was more than happy to oblige.

Quackity was actually better than first expected, light on his feet and not too overconfident. He had a permanent smirk on his face while he fought, even as wide eyes betrayed his true concern. It was remarkable, in a sense, that his smile never fell; this may not have been an actually dangerous match, but it still had to take some degree of self-control to not get stressed out.

Time went on, and eventually the gates swung open once again; this time Techno and Tubbo stepped through, still looking tired. Tubbo went straight to one of the empty benches, leaning back against the wall with a sigh, while Techno was immediately accosted by Tommy. The younger brother was somehow able to convince the elder to take a sword and follow him into the arena. Techno seemed more aware than he’d been earlier, at least, which had to be a good sign.

Everything was going well, for a while. As Wilbur was coming to learn, though, that kind of calm never lasted around here.

A familiar scream cut through the air, and Wilbur whirled around to see the source, his lance almost slipping through his fingers in his panic. Quackity stumbled behind him, caught off guard by the sudden disruption, his sword bouncing harmlessly off Wilbur’s back.

At the other end of the arena, Tommy was sprawled on the ground, curled up on his side with one arm covering his stomach and the other awkwardly pinned beneath him. A shallow scrape ran along the length of his forearm, staining the white brick floor red. Techno stood over him, sword held high in a white-knuckle grip.

Wilbur’s body reacted before his mind even had the chance to comprehend what it was seeing, throwing him between his brothers just in time as Techno brought his weapon down. The sword hit his back hard enough to snap the wood, sending a white-hot flash of pain down Wilbur’s spine. He gasped and staggered, blinking away spots, then grit his teeth and slowly straightened back up.

Tubbo sprinted over and dropped to his knees next to Tommy, hands already enveloped in a white light. Reassured that his brother would be alright, Wilbur turned around, steeling himself for what was to come. Techno’s eyes were glazed and unfocused, pupils shrunk to pinpricks and focused far too intently on the smear of blood on the ground.

“Technoblade, _Techno-_ listen to me, okay? Listen to me,” he hurried out, resting his hands on his brother’s shoulders.

Techno immediately grabbed at Wilbur’s wrists, the remains of his sword tumbling to the ground. His grip was bruising, nails digging in deep to the point of almost breaking skin. Wilbur winced, but refused to budge.

“Techno, listen, just breathe, okay?” he continued, desperately searching his brother’s face for any sign of recognition. “ _Breathe._ You’re at Garreg Mach, you’re at the training grounds. I’m here, okay? Tommy’s here, Tubbo’s here...”

At around the same moment, Techno’s nails drew blood from the skin of Wilbur’s wrists, and his gaze gradually began to focus. His hands started to shake as he squinted at his brother, whispering, “Wilbur?”

“Yeah, yes, it’s me.” The relief Wilbur felt at that was _immense;_ it was always hard to know how long these episodes would last, so having a short one was a solace. “I’m safe, I’m okay, see? You’re safe. Everyone’s okay.”

Techno was still trembling, so Wilbur slid his hands down his arms and gently guided him to the floor. They knelt facing each other, and Techno’s grip slowly loosened, letting trails of blood drip down Wilbur’s wrists.

“Did I... again?” Techno mumbled, staring blankly at the ground through half-lidded eyes.

Wilbur nodded with a sigh, then leant forward and gently bumped his forehead against his brother’s. “It’s okay. Everyone’s fine. I stopped you. It’s okay.”

The arena fell quiet, silent save for laboured breathing, before Quackity abruptly ruined the peace with, “What the _fuck_ just happened?!”

“ _Language!_ ”

Unfortunately for Bad, the rest of the students soon echoed Quackity’s sentiment (though with notably less words and more incoherent confusion). Tommy sat up, rubbing at his newly healed forearm, and Tubbo promptly slumped against his shoulder, covering his ears and shuddering. Wilbur grimaced, glancing between his brothers while the commotion surrounding them only grew louder. This had been the one thing about moving to somewhere with people that he’d been scared of: having to help his family through their problems despite everyone around them not understanding. He’d lived with these three for years, he knew how to handle their issues, even while managing his own, but everyone else? They had no idea what was going on.

This wasn’t good.

Eret, clearly a gift from the Goddess, decided to step forward and herd some of the more invasive students away. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Tommy coaxed Tubbo to his feet and, with a quick nod to Wilbur, guided him towards the gates. Wilbur tried to do the same, slowly standing up and hauling Techno with him. His back and wrists ached terribly, but he ignored it in favour of hurrying his unresponsive brother out of the training grounds.

He looked back, just briefly, as they passed through the gate. Everyone was watching, expressions caught between afraid and concerned. Dream stood stock-still, all emotion hidden behind his mask, but Wilbur couldn’t help feeling that the man’s gaze was fixed squarely on him.

A chill ran down his spine, and he was all too grateful to get out of there.

The walk back to the dorms was awkward and quiet. Passing knights and monks gave them odd looks, though they thankfully didn’t try to stop them. Tubbo immediately collapsed on the couch when they got back, leaving Wilbur and Tommy to drag Techno up to his room. He was a little more present by time they sat him down on his bed, being aware enough to mutter a “Thanks,” as they left. Tommy went to his own quarters after that, still unconsciously rubbing at his arm and looking generally uncomfortable.

Wilbur went back downstairs to lock the door; it was early in the afternoon, but he imagined none of them would be wanting to go out again after that disaster. Then he took a seat next to Tubbo, who groaned and reluctantly sat up.

“How’s your head?” Wilbur asked, making sure to keep his volume low.

“I want to rip it off,” Tubbo grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. He paused for a second, looking his brother up and down, then abruptly reached out and grabbed his wrists. Wilbur hissed in pain, and Tubbo was a little more gentle as he rested his hands in his lap. He gingerly covered the small holes in Wilbur’s skin, ignoring the blood that stained his fingers as a result.

“You don’t have to,” Wilbur murmured, already guessing what his brother was about to do.

Tubbo shook his head, and a pale golden light began to shine between their conjoined hands. “It’s fine, I- I can heal a lot before I run out of energy. The, uh- the migraine makes it harder to focus, but it’s not that bad.”

“If you’re sure.” Wilbur’s wrists started to itch, making him all too aware of the unpleasant feeling of his flesh knitting itself back together. All the discomfort he’d usually feel while a wound healed was being condensed down into the span of a few seconds, and it made him want to dig into his own skin and scratch until the pain drowned out everything else. Tubbo knew this, of course, having seen his reaction to their father healing him in the past, so he kept a firm grip on Wilbur’s arm until he was finished.

Eventually, Tubbo let go, and excused himself to go to his room. Wilbur sank back in his seat, letting out a tired sigh as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. That entire situation... could’ve gone better. He’d known things would start to go downhill sooner or later, but he’d been hoping it would be much more gradual - a few mishaps across as many days, maybe. But _no,_ everything decided to collapse all at once and make a scene of it.

He wasn’t bitter. Not at all.

He jolted upright when he heard a knock on the door, his heart stuttering in his chest. After taking a second to calm his racing pulse, Wilbur stood up and made his way over, hesitantly unlocking and opening the door. Standing just outside were Eret and Quackity, both of whom brightened when they saw him.

“Oh.” Wilbur frowned, grip tightening on the door handle while he berated himself internally. “Right, um- sorry about... all of that-”

“Nothing to apologise for,” Eret dismissed, offering a smile. “We just wanted to make sure you were all okay.”

“Yeah, you kinda just _left_ without saying anything,” Quackity pointed out, poorly masking his worry with nonchalance.

“Well, we’re fine,” Wilbur replied curtly. He hesitated for a moment, lowering his gaze, then quietly added, “Thanks for coming to check.”

Quackity merely shrugged, though he was now visibly more relaxed. Eret appeared thoughtful, then carefully asked, “Do you want to tell us what that was?”

“Not really,” Wilbur answered on reflex, glancing back into the house. “I guess I _should_ probably warn you, though. There was an incident when we were kids, and ever since, whenever Techno sees blood, there’s a chance of... _that_ happening.”

“An incident?” Quackity repeated.

“I’m not comfortable saying more than that.” Wilbur’s hand twitched, and he had to consciously refrain from covering his throat.

“That’s fine,” Eret assured. “As long as you four are alright.”

“We are. We’re probably gonna stay inside for the rest of the day, just to make sure, but everything should be back to normal tomorrow.” Or as close as they could get to normal, anyway. “Thanks, again.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just remember, if you ever want to talk to anyone, your house is here for you,” Eret told him, still smiling warmly. Quackity nodded in agreement, and waved over his shoulder when they left.

Wilbur watched them go, then shut the door and turned the key to lock it once again. He turned around, leaning back against the wood with a sigh. He slowly slid down to the floor, a wave of exhaustion crashing over him with little warning. So much for being the most energetic brother... should’ve known it wouldn’t last long.

He supposed it _could_ be worse, though.

Tommy was fine, if a little shaken from the day’s events. Tubbo could still complain about his headache, which, ironically enough, was a good sign - it was when he got quiet and shut down that they had a problem. Techno’s daze had only lasted a few minutes, and he hadn’t seriously hurt anyone - the bar being that low probably wasn’t great, but Wilbur was really trying to be optimistic here.

Plus, as Eret had said, there were people around them now who were willing to help. He didn’t have to deal with the issues of four people all by himself, praying his father would come home before he broke under the pressure. He could talk to people, ask for assistance, make life easier for himself _and_ his brothers...

It’d be fine.

Really, this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not respond, but I do read and appreciate every comment.
> 
> Feel free to come yell at me @call-me-yin on Tumblr!


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